In Sleep He Sang To Me
by Tainted Visions
Summary: When Harry uses Voldemort's old diary to relieve the stress of fifth year, he begins to see many things about him changing. Trapped between feelings of love and hate for his sworn enemy, will Harry get more than he bargained for besides a devil's diary?
1. Prelude 1221

**In Sleep He Sang To Me**

**Rating: M **(Dark under-tones, sexual scenes, slash, violence, language, and death)

**Summary:** When Harry uses Voldemort's old diary to relieve the stress of fifth year, he begins to see many things about him changing. Trapped between feelings of love and hate for his sworn enemy, will Harry get more than he bargained for besides a devil's diary?

**A/N: This is a dark, vulnerable Harry fic. Of course, it's mostly through the connection he feels this anger, does these things, and you will see some regret scenes where he's our loveable hero once again. But that doesn't mean he won't go on to do more things later, and not all of them you'll see him so sorry for. This is also slash between Harry and Voldemort, so if you can't stand it, don't read. **

**Please read and review! Thanks. **

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"**This is what I brought, this you can keep. This is what I brought, you may forget me. I promise to depart, just promise one thing; kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep. This is what I brought, this you can keep. This is what I brought, you may forget me. I promise you my heart, just promise to sing; Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep..." - Prelude 1221, AFI**

**Chapter 1: Prelude 12/21**

Harry Potter was restless. Of course, this was nothing new; most of this past week had been filled with haunting dreams and visions he could not explain, the stinging of the scar on his forehead painted right above his right eye and the painful stinging of the right hand where Umbridge had forced him to carve words into his own skin. But what was making these dreams more frustrating than usual was the fact that a single door always stood before him, never opening, and every time he went to open it, he'd awake, sweating profusely, the feeling of dread and disappointment filling within him, as if something had been ripped away from him. But not tonight. Tonight, he had wandered further into the depths of the place that held that locked door, realizing he was in a place that did not seem familiar to him.

He now lay awake upon his four-poster, staring idly at the ceiling, trying to recollect the dream and it's curious mysteries. But nothing would come. Once again, like every time, the dream had vanished from his mind's eye. His scar was beginning to prickle from the aftermath of the dream, and he winced silently as it gave a particularly nasty throb, rubbing it gingerly. How he hated when his scar burned.

Finally, when he could no longer fight against the pain, he closed his eyes. Almost at once, he heard a hollowed voice in his eardrums, far away, distant; He opened his eyes. Even as he did, he realized he was no longer himself; He had long, slender fingers that were as white as the palest sun. His skin was as rough as chipped rock and rocky roads, bumpy, and his eyes felt stretched, formed into slits, scarlet and furious. A wand hung in his right hand, almost tenderly, but he could make the most vile and evil things ripple from it's enchantments, it's very being; The stick as thin as a twig had caused much more damage than it looked capable – this wand had murdered.

_"Lucius," Said Harry in a high, cold voice, and he realized with a jolt that the voice that emanated from his mouth was not his own, but that of his enemy; He was speaking in Voldemort's voice._

_The man, Lucius, who was blonde and long-haired, stood, face impassive. "My Lord?"__ He questioned._

_"Enough of the formalities, Lucius!" Rage surged through Harry in the snappish tone. "Did you think me idiotic? Infallible?"_

_Lucius looked perplexed. "My-My Lord? I know not what you speak of -"_

_"Oh, but I think you do," Harry hissed in Voldemort's voice, fury like a serpent trailing his insides. "I think you know. Did you really think – Harry Potter – did you really think that child stood a chance against me..? I, who have killed so easily and without the slightest problem, was thwarted by a mere infant?! Do you think me weak, in my efforts to kill a child? Well, do you?!" _

_His voice was dangerously soft, and Lucius gave the slightest flinch, but remained kneeling at his master's feet. "No, no My Lord. You, you are more powerful than this child. You are merciful, and gratified, and I will follow any command you give me, My Lord Voldemort."_

"_Quit your begging, Lucius. Save the pleas for mercy later." He spat in disgust. "You'll be needing them. I want that Prophecy. I want Harry Potter. I want him now. NOW!"_

_Lucius shuddered in fear now, his whole body trembling. "Yes, yes, My Lord. I shall bring the boy."_

_"Yes, you shall.." He hissed, his lipless mouth curving into a smirk, licking them clean from which the taste of desire so presented itself. "You shall bring me him.."_

_Lucius fumbled as he got up, musing his apologizes as he sped out the door before Voldemort could stop him, and Voldemort let out an evil cackle as the torches on the wall burst into flame, setting the room up with a pearly sunset glow, whispering the name that had been his wand's only weakness, the boy who had thwarted him so many times before. But not any longer._

_"Harry..."_

Harry's eyes snapped open, and he let out a soft strangled cry of fright. Looking down at himself, he realized that his body was his own, no longer that of Voldemort's. He raised his hands to his face, and felt it. There was no longer a rocky bumpiness to it. It was smooth; clear. Sighing in relief, his whirring brain barely registered Ron's loud grunt in his deep sleep, or the quietness that had spread across the Hogwarts grounds. He failed to notice, as he got up from his bed to attend an early breakfast, that his school bag was unzipped, and as he brushed against it, the book fell out, falling gracefully onto the floor as it flipped onto an empty page, where a single word was written, a name, and he failed to hear the slow, soft whisper it called through the continuing darkness.

_Harry..._

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[Revised on December 6th.

- Tainted Visions


	2. Breathe Into Me

**A/N: Revised on December 6****th**

**Disclaimer: Do not own Harry Potter. Just play with the idea of Harry/Voldemort slash! ;)**

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**Breathe Into Me**

**"Breathe your life into me, I can't feel you. I'm falling, falling faster. Breathe your life into me. I still need you. I'm falling. Breathe into me.." - ****Breathe Into Me, Red**

He had made sure that they had suffered. He always had. He would not settle for their insolence, and as they had laid at his feet, begging, pleading for mercy, he did not succumb to their wishes; No, they would suffer. They would pay for not obeying a direct order, for failing on a mission he had stressed over and over and over again would not be tolerated to fail. They had not been reprieved. The would get only punishment, only suffering, and he hadn't given them anything less. He wouldn't – couldn't – because he did not do it. It was not his nature. He had vowed to himself that he would always get what he wanted. And he always did, because he willed it.

What he wanted now was Harry Potter.

Sitting alone in a dark room, his chambers, upon his throne, his wand held loosely in his right hand, his mind was set upon that one thing: Harry Potter. _The boy_.

He lifted his head, staring avidly at a random part of the stone wall. The boy, who had messed up his entire life, was all he wanted tonight. And he always got what he wanted. He raised a skeletal hand, his gaze moving to his thin finger nails. They were unblemished, clean; He wondered if any dirt could squeeze between his nails as they were so thick and clamped upon his skin. It's like they were woven there, woven like Harry Potter was in his life, his fate, his destiny; Hissing, he raised his head again, agitated at why he kept thinking about the boy. What agitated him even more was why he was thinking about the boy with no desire to kill him, a desire that usually accompanied his darkest dreams, his deepest desires, his sleep like a song; The boy was like a sound, a whisper, a low, subtle lament, a nocturne.

But Harry was more than a song — he was a thorn in his side, like salt in an open wound; A wound that never healed, nor closed, a hole he could not fill, could not deplete, get rid of; Because Harry Potter kept living. Over and over again, with remarkable luck, the boy escaped him. But that's just what it was - _luck_. And luck did not last forever; It eventually ran out. And it would for Harry Potter. But not tonight. He had no desire to kill the boy tonight. What was more, what was agitating him so, was that he didn't know _why_.

He tore his gaze away from the wall to stare at the torch of flame on the opposite side of the room, just leveled with his chair. The fire flickered, crackling against the silence, and the silhouette created against the wall was an exact shadow of the hot flames. Torrents of it shot up, then down again, keeping a steady flow at a consistent rate, never rising, never falling. Consistent. That was another word that could describe his obsession, for a better word, with Harry Potter. It never died, or was put off, even for a fleeting moment. Never. It was eternal. For all eternity would Harry be his obsession, his reason, his obligation, his will, his life; Fate had ensured it, entwined their destinies, a constant waver, never breaking, never separating; _Never ending_.

No, forever would they be bound to one another. Forever would they ever be the reason the other lived, the reason they existed. They belonged to each other. Harry was his, and he was Harry's. They were a pair, a pair bound by hate, pain, suffering, bondage, a connection; The scar was the mark of their vendetta, their hatred, their magnitude of venom; Venomous hatred slithered through the other's veins, like a serpent, a posion only caused by the deepest, meanest, strongest of fangs; Those fangs had pierced both of their sides for years – many years – now. And they would forever, because fate had ensured it.

There wasn't any other choice, for either of them.

Voldemort looked away, the brightness of the flames bothering his eyes somewhat. Staring instead at the dark red carpet of the floor, he smirked; Fate may have bound them together, but only one would die - and he would make sure it was Harry who did. Because he willed it, and Lord Voldemort always got what he wanted, even if it was Harry Potter.

–———

"Harry, what's this..?"

Harry Potter, staring at his homework paper with tired eyes, looked up. His eyes widened instantly. "Where did you get that?"

Hermione Granger crossed her arms and eyed him with suspicion. "Cut the theatrics, Harry. What in Merlin's name are you doing with You-Know-Who's old diary?"

"Nothing," said Harry flatly, the tiredness of the day finally catching up with him. "I'm just keeping it as a souvinere, that's all."

"Then why have you written in it?"

"Because the assesments of fifth year has a lot of stress associated with it, and it's nice to let some feelings out, if that's suddenly a crime," Harry spat angrily, "It isn't like Voldemort is using it; the Chamber of Secrets can't open again, the curse was broken, the diary's destroyed, so what harm can writing in the book do?"

"Don't tempt fate, Harry, you saw what happened with Ginny."

"Yeah, well, fate usually tempts _me_, if you remember." said Harry shortly. "I'll have my book back now, thanks."

He reached forward to grab it, but Hermione pulled it away, eyeing him warily.

"_Your_ book? Last time I checked, this book was Tom Riddle's!"

"It _is_ mine. Er, _his_." Harry corrected himself, "But I just like to write in it. He can't just get it back, and besides, it's completely harmless now. Dumbledore said so."

But apparently the topic of Dumbledore and his veiws did nothing to raise Hermione's morale.

"How can you trust Dumbledore's judgement when he's not even looking at you, Harry? He's ignoring you like the plauge - I think he thinks there's something wrong with you, and quite frankly so do I!"

"There's nothing wrong with me!" Harry hissed. "It's that damned toad-face! No one's stopping Umbridge!"

"Mate."

Harry looked over at his friend Ron, who was lying on the Gryffindor Common Room floor, reading his Transfiguration book.

"No one can do anything about Umbridge until you do. You just have to report what she's doing to you. Go to Dum -"

"No, I don't think I'll bother him with my problems, thanks, Ron." Harry snapped, and without waiting for a reply, he stood, yanking the book out of Hermione's grip as he ascended the stairs to the boys dormitories. As soon as he reached the landing, he felt a twinge of regret. He knew he shouldn't have snapped at them; They continued to stick by him, through all of his problems, even when he snapped at them, something Dumbledore never did. His heart swelled with guilt.

He'd apologize to Ron when he came up, though; He'd apologize to Hermione, too, in the morning. He was much too tired now. Taking a seat on his bed, he flipped the book over in his hands. He knew Hermione meant well, but sometimes she was too meddlesome for her own good. The bruise of guilt swelled upon thinking this thought. Sighing, he pulled out his quill from his bag and flipped the diary to the neatest, cleanest page. Pressing his quill to the page, he began to write.

_I'm so confused. I don't know what to do. I don't know what's wrong with me. Maybe it's Umbridge. Mostly, I think it is. But my scar's always hurting now, and with it, I feel anger that I can't control. I don't know why I'm so angry all the time. I feel like someone's inside of me making me feel this way. It's like there's whispers in the dark, but I can't see the origin or the source; I can't figure out who's whispering them. _

_I just don't know what to do anymore. _

_Ron and Hermione think something's wrong, and the truth is, I think so, too. I'm just not myself, and I don't know why. I wish you were here with me, mum, dad; You could help me. But you're not. Dumbledore won't look at me or talk to me, and Sirius is too busy with the Order to be bothered with my petty problems. Luna probably wouldn't understand half the things I say, and I can't really go up to Snape for advice, can I? Yeah, that would be a clever thing to do. Earn myself more detentions. I still don't know why my scar burned when Umbridge touched me. I don't know why Dumbledore's treating me like this. I don't know why I'm not dead yet._

And he closed the book with a loud thud, and fell back onto his bed, still fully clothed, staring up at the canopy. He heard footsteps, and knew by the sound the feet made that Ron had come up for bed. Without looking, Harry cleared his throat, unable to meet his friend's eyes as he heard him scurry onto his own bed beside his, and whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I treated you like that. You were only trying to help."

"It's fine, mate. I know you're just frustrated. But you upset Hermione pretty bad. She was only trying to help, you know. She thinks that book's evil."

"Yeah, I know she wants to help. I just.. I like to write what I'm feeling. It really helps. You don't think the diary's evil, do you?" Harry asked, now looking up to meet his friends eyes, who immediately shook his head.

"No, I don't think it's evil or corrupted. I don't even think it works anymore besides as a regular diary. If Dumbledore said the Riddle inside the diary was gone, then the memory – and the evil inside it – is gone, too." Ron answered.

Harry nodded. "Thanks."

Ron shrugged, "No problem, mate."

They went silent for a moment. It took Harry a moment to realize Ron was now completely changed and lying in bed. He turned over on his side to face him. He had made his decision.

"Look, Ron, can I talk to you about something..?"

Ron looked confused. "Sure. We're best mates, of course you can talk to me.."

Harry felt that twinge of guilt again. "Well.. it's about Voldemort.."

Ron's eyes widened. "You didn't have another vision?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Harry shook his head. "Ron - I feel like he's_ inside me_. I think he's the voice I've been hearing in my nightmares. I think -" He stopped himself, carefully choosing the words. "I think he's possessing me."

But Ron seemed not to have heard; he was staring straight ahead of him, above Harry's head, face white and appalled. Harry's eyes creased. "Ron, did you hear me? What's wrong?"

Ron didn't reply. He only choked a strangle of fear, face paling rapidly.

"What?" Harry asked, this time more urgently.

"Behind.. behind you, Harry.." Ron whispered, almost inaudibly, his face growing whiter, still, sitting up in his bed.

Harry rolled over. He wasn't even completely on his side, when a hand clamped over his mouth. Voldemort's.

"Yes, Harry, I _am_ inside you." He said sadistically. "I am your soul, your demon, your darkness; And you will be mine. Because I always get what I want."

Harry struggled underneath the skeletal hand possessing his mouth, and in an effort to break out, he raised his fist and socked the Dark Lord right on the side of the head. Voldemort's hand relinquished.

He sneered, and gave a low hiss. "That was very rude, you little brat."

He reached down and wrapped the skeletal, white hand around Harry's throat, and Harry felt his windpipe begin to suffocate under the coldness of the hand, and the air that was being deprived from his lungs. Harry attempted to scream, but all he managed was a strangled groan, as he was lifted out of his bed one-handedly by his nemesis, his enemy. Voldemort brought the boy into the air with almost no effort at all, and threw him forcefully down onto the floor, Harry's head colliding against the bedside table. His glasses fell, and broke against the collision. Feeling penetrably vulnerable, Harry crab-walked on the floor until he reached the four-poster opposite his. He heard footsteps, and knew Ron had run out for help, and the only thing left was Voldemort advancing slowly on him, his wand nowhere to be seen, a smile on his lips that looked like seductive venom and the diary lying beside his right leg. _The diary_! Harry lunged forward and seized it, grasping the pen with it. Raising it above his head, he began to bring it down onto the book. But it never got there. Instead, he felt cold around his throat again and gasped, straining to breathe, little dots in front of his eyes as he felt the air escape his lungs.

"Not today, little boy," Voldemort hissed, "Not ever. You are mine. Now and forever."

And Voldemort's cold, high laugh was drowned by a sea of darkness, and the smallest bright light on the edge of Harry's vision he knew to be the green light from the killing curse. He let himself fall, lifeless, as the darkness consumed him. It was over. He was Voldemort's now and forever. Even in death. _His_ death.

It had ended at last.

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**Nope, Harry's not dead. If he was, the story would have no point, plot or reason to be written. So, no, our hero hasn't died. But will he now that he's in Voldemort's clutches? We'll just have to wait and see. **

**Please read and review! Thanks:)**

**- Tainted Visions**


	3. Snow White Queen

**A/N: Revised December 6****th**

**Snow White Queen**

**"You belong to me, my snow white queen. There's nowhere to run, so let's just get it over. Soon I know you'll see, you're just like me. Don't scream anymore my love, 'cause all I want is you."****- Snow White Queen, Evanescence**

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_Harry..._

He was screaming. Everything inside him was screaming. He had no idea whether he was alive or dead; All he knew was pain, agonizing pain, and then it was gone. He opened his eyes. Scarlet met his. He jumped, hardly daring to breathe, hardly daring to believe this was real. Would Voldemort forever haunt him in the afterlife as well? Was his whole life – life after death – fated to be haunted by the one who had caused it?

He groaned. His head felt as if it were split in two, pounding profusely, thud after thud, a steady beat. His heart, however, contradicted this subtle pattern, beating frantically, perhaps seeking to jump out from his body and leave him lifeless, dead.

In front of him, Voldemort leered. "Wake up, Harry. Wake up. You're not dead. Yet."

His eyes felt like lead, heavy, copper-like, and he wanted to close them and drift off, but they remained open, staring at the snake-like face of Lord Voldemort, knowing that it would be the last thing he ever saw.

"I really hate to disturb you from such a deep sleep. You looked so peaceful. I took pleasure in watching you." His voice was disgustingly soft.

Harry's stomach turned over, but he groaned and whispered, "I'm _sure_ you hated to do it. But you had to get on with killing me, so go ahead then. I can't possibly defend myself; I have no wand."

Voldemort put on a fake frown. "Oh, Harry. You can be so_ naive _sometimes. If I haven't killed you by now, after all of this time of you being here, you should realize I won't kill you now."

"Why?" Harry lifted his neck to keep his head from dropping. "That's been your sole reason for existence, isn't it? Killing me? You've tried to for years. Why stop?"

Voldemort smirked, but the skin was too tight to actually do so. "Because it's too much fun to see you alive; _Suffering_."

"Then why kill me at all?" Harry spat out before he could stop himself. "If you want to let me suffer for the rest of my life, why bother killing me? You must know I won't suffer then."

He leered. "Because you've been a thorn in my side, a poison, to me for far too long. You must be killed. You stand in my way."

"Why?" Harry asked again, "why did you try to kill me when I was an infant?"

Something like indecision passed over Voldemort's eyes, as if he were making his mind up about something. Then he sneered, "You must take me for fool to think that I don't know you know why."

"I don't," said Harry bluntly. "I have no idea. Dumbledore won't even look at me much less talk to me, or explain why you tried to kill me. I asked him when I was eleven, but he said he couldn't tell me. So there's your answer."

A bark of a laugh escaped Voldemort's mouth. "Dumbledore. Such an idiotic, meddling old fool."

"Gee, you must be so much more classified," said Harry sarcastically, "Especially if you call meddling in people's lives Dumbledore's thing. You seem to know a lot about it."

Voldemort's nostrils flared. "I won't take that tone from you, boy."

Harry raised his shoulder's, looking the angry man straight in the eye. "I really don't give a damn."

Voldemort drew up a hand and for a moment, Harry thought he was going to hit him. But then, a single, slender finger ran over Harry's face, and Harry pulled away, sickened, at his touch. "Don't touch me."

Voldemort smiled. "You seem to forget, Harry, that I can do what ever I please. Even touch you."

He repeated the offense, and Harry growled and wrung the hand off of him. "Stop it!"

This time, Voldemort really did hit him.

"Don't you order me, brat." Voldemort growled into the youth's face, pushing it forward so that they were nose-to-nose."You belong to me, after all."

Harry felt the rage that had emasculated after he'd written in the diary surface again. "You don't own me. My parents did. You killed them. I'll never be your's."

Voldemort laughed, sending Harry's neck hair standing on end. "You already are. We're each other's. Our destinies, our fate's; they're bound into one. We can't escape each other even if we tried. Even if we turned away. You are my hatred, I am your's." He gave a dry chuckle, and seized Harry's face in one hand. "You have nowhere to run, now, Harry, no one to help you; You are my Snow White Queen, my pampered little heir, my prince; You and I, we're not so different. We're alike in more ways than one. You can't escape me, Harry Potter. You can't outrun your fate, your destiny; Give in. Give into me."

Harry squirmed under the rough grip, and saw Voldemort's eyes encase with an erotic look. "No."

Voldemort gave another soft laugh. "Now, Harry.. you must obey your master's. Give into me. "

Tears sprung Harry's eyes as his face fell numb. "No!"

"Yes, Harry, yes. You _know _you want to. You want _me_."

The tears poured down his face. "_No_!"

"_Yes. _Don't scream, don't cry, now, Harry; All I want is _you_."

And then Harry felt something forceful push into his mouth. A tongue, he realized. And then he realized whose it was, and gagged as it escalated down his throat, suffocating him, choking him. He felt vomit rush up his throat, then back down, and he gagged again, struggling hard to break the kiss. But Voldemort would not break it; He had a hand wrapped around a handful of Harry's hair, and Harry felt several of them part company with his scalp. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Voldemort pulled away. His expression was one of complete seduction.

"You are my crimson kiss, child. You are _mine_."

The handful of hair Voldemort was holding released, and Harry's head fell back against the wall, staring at his enemy with nothing but absolute shock.

Voldemort seemed to ignore this. "Get up, now, Harry. Go back. Go back to your friends, to Dumbledore. Until I find you again in the bowels of snow... when we shall be buried under it forever. _Forever_."

Harry slowly stood, shaking all over, trying his hardest not to vomit all over the floor. His eyes burned, and felt blistered, his face sore and bruised, and his mind reeling. _What the hell had just happened? _But before he could speak, Voldemort turned away from him. He was staring at an opposite wall.

"Get out, Potter, now. Before I do kill you. NOW."

Harry walked slowly towards the door, readying himself any second should Voldemort make a move to grab him again. But his hand was at the door knob now, and he pulled it, and walked out at a backward trance, until he was completely out, and the door was shut. Only then did he break into a run. He had no idea where he was, or how to get out, or how to get back to the castle, but he didn't care; He didn't care where he went next or what he did, as long as he was away from him, from Voldemort. Almost at once, he reached the end of the hall, and opened the double-doors that led him outside, panting now in an effort to control his urge to be sick and his urge to break down. He looked around, realizing he was in some kind of forest. The Forbidden Forest, he realized. Voldemort had a house here...?

Deciding that he would think more on it once he was at school, he concentrated his energies into getting back. He walked, numbly, out of the forest, and onto the grounds. It was nearing dawn. The students had to be asleep by now. Had he only been abducted just hours before? He stumbled past Hagrid's hut, almost having an urge to knock on the door and call out to him, but he continued on until he was less than a courtyard away from the castle. Once he reached there, however, he found he could not control his emotions or sick feeling, and dropped into the grass, panting heavily, eyes wet with tears, and mouth plastered with his own vomit. Everything was spinning around him. He was so tired.

A soft hooting sound roused him. He opened his eyes, slowly, and looked around. A snowy, white, owl was perched beside him, nibbling gently and affectionately on his ear, something like concern in her deep, amber eyes. Harry groaned softly, and stroked her wing. "Hedwig. I can't get up. Too weak.. get someone.. a teacher.. anyone.. please.."

His throat was sore and scratchy, but Hedwig seemed to have understood him. She hooted, and flew off in the direction of the school. Harry sighed in exhaustion, and turned over onto his side in the grass, a trail of vomit leaking down his mouth. Sleep was calling him. He gave in, hoping he would just sleep for eternity, and never have to awake upon the thing that was Lord Voldemort again.


	4. Our Farewell

**In Sleep He Sang To Me**

**Summary: When a stressful fifth year at Hogwarts arises, Harry Potter uses the old diary of his nemesis to relieve some of the stress. What he doesn't know is that the mind connection between himself and Voldemort grows ever stronger, and a curse has been placed upon the diary to fufil the writer's thoughts, and allow only bad things to happen. **

**Disclaimer: Still don't own! Now quit harrassing me!**

**Our Farewell**

**"Now rest your head, and go to sleep. 'Cuz my child.. this is not our farewell."**

_Harry..._

His eyes snapped open, and for a moment, he imagined he was back wherever Voldemort had taken him, would find himself staring into those cold, red eyes of his sworn enemy, pained with a lust he couldn't explain, locking with his, those lips entrancing his own, that tounge possessing his mouth like a serpent..

He twitched in protest when a hand closed over his upper arm. "No. Please. Let me go.."

"Harry. You're safe. It's me."

Harry looked up to see the face of Albus Dumbledore, who was crouching over him with a concerned look on his face. "Professor?"

He smiled. "Yes, Harry. I'm here. We're going to get you upstairs momentarily, where nothing can happen to you."

Harry quirked, "_'We', _sir?"

And then another voice spoke, so silky, so low, he had to strain to hear it. "Yes, Potter, as much as the idea pains me."

In shock, Harry forced himself into a sitting position. "Professor Snape?"

"Now, now, Severus," said Albus, but his gaze was gentle on the other man. "The poor boy was obviously not expecting you."

Harry whirled his head around Albus's body to see Severus Snape standing not even a foot away, hands in his pocket, giving a stern look at the the older wizard. But when his eyes met Harry's, there was no cold or jeering look; He even looked.. concerned? But before Harry could think more on it, Snape looked away to the ground. "Albus, are we going to take him up to the hospital wing now, or are we going to let him sit here in pain?"

"Oh, yes, thank you." Albus smiled as he turned to Harry, who realized Albus had his arms around him, so that he was lying on the elder's lap. "First, are you all right, Harry?"

"Yes, I think so," said Harry softly through a burning in his throat. "But.."

And then it came back; Ron's face, the hand over his mouth, feeling a coldness around his throat as Voldemort brought him into the air one-handedly, seizing the diary and quill to destroy it, the bright light as he was taken..

"Sir, is Ron all right?" Harry asked, his heart beating very fast. He had no idea if his friend was dead or alive. "And what about Hermione? She didn't know.."

"Harry." Dumbledore raised a hand to gently silence him, and Harry calmed and did so immediately. "Miss Granger is fine. A minute before your abduction, Ronald Weasley, in a panic, came running out of the Gryffindor common room as soon as Voldemort had taken you. (Harry saw Severus shiver convulsively at the use of the name behind Dumbledore's back) He then ran into Severus, who informed me, and by the time we got to your room, you were gone. Upon seeing this, I informed the Order of the Phoenix about your abduction, and they were set to rescue you just minutes from now. I'll have to cancel that, since you're here safe and sound, now."

"But I saw a Green light." said Harry quickly, condradicting him. "Sir, it came before I blacked out, as Voldemort was taking me."

Dumbledore stared at him for a moment, not saying anything, a crease between his eyes, his face stern and hard. Harry's heart began to pound a little faster, scared of his Headmaster's expression. He'd never seen it so stony before. But then Dumbledore's eyes softened, and he raised his hand and placed it on Harry's shoulder. "I'm sure what you saw was only the effects from when Lord Voldemort began to choke you. Under suffocation, you see many things that aren't really there. I'm sure that's what happened this time. You were under the impression you were seeing a Green light because that's what you expected to see."

Harry hardly dared to believe him, but in spite of himself he nodded. "Thank you, sir. I think that's what happened then too."

Dumbledore's smile returned. "Try not to think too much on it, Harry. All that matters is that you're safe. But once we get up to the Hospital Wing, I'm afraid I'm going to have to interrogate you."

"Will you be using Verritaserum?" Asked Harry, glancing uneasily for a moment at Snape, who didn't seem to notice.

"Naturally." said Dumbledore softly. "I must make sure though, really, although I do know, that you are Harry Potter. What form does your patronus take?"

" Er, a -" but he looked away; Snape had made a convulsive movement, and Harry glanced at him. Their eyes met, Black into Green, and there was that concern again in Snape's eyes, Harry saw it clearly now, sure he was seeing what he had seen earlier before. Mometarily distracted, he shook his head and whispered, "Stag. A Stag, sir."

"Correct, Harry." said Dumbledore. "Now, I'm going to try and lift you. Severus, could you give me a hand?"

Severus looked as though he were about to faint or shout, one or the other; He took a step forward, then stopped, staring at Harry harshly, as though trying to penetrate his mind, search his eyes into the depths of his soul, and Harry watched him, wondering what Snape was going to do. But then Snape cleared his throat, and said. "Yes, Albus." And he moved forward.

Dumbledore lifted Harry from the ground, and Harry winced as his leg was put firmly on the ground. "Wait, stop. My leg."

Concern passed over Dumbledore's eyes. "Did you hurt it, Harry?"

"I think so," Harry answered, his eyes tearing through the pains running up his right leg, "but I don't remember doing it. Maybe I hurt it when I fell."

"Perhaps," said Dumbledore, but he was staring at Harry's leg harshly, with that stern look again. "Harry, Voldemort didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No," said Harry, "I just hit my head when he was kidnapping me, but that's it.. when I was there.. he.. he didn't do anything, but.." He quickly caught himself under the look Dumbledore gave him, suspicious and hard. "But then he let me go."

Dumbledore didn't look convinced, however, but he didn't potrude more on the matter. "We'll have to check your head out. Right now, it's getting you upstairs that matters." He gripped Harry's left arm firmly, then nodded to Severus, who instantly, and simuataneously, it seemed, walked over to Harry's right and raised that arm, and Harry was momentarily shocked when it gripped him gently, not harsh like Severus's nature would have instantly gratified. Together, the teacher and Headmaster supported Harry to the castle doors, stopping when the boy groaned in pain as it shot through his leg. Soon, they were inside, and Harry welcomed the safe haven of his school, though many people, students mostly, stopped to stare at him in awe as he was brought to the hospital wing. Once there, Dumbledore turned to Severus.

"I got him from here, Severus. Thank you. If you could please go down to my office and let Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger know that Harry is here."

Severus nodded, eyes meeting Harry's again, and Harry saw that uncomprehensible look of concern in his eyes. But then it was gone, as Snape swept from the hospital wing doors, and Poppy came bustling out of her office, stern-looking.

"Albus, what in God's name has - Harry!"

She looked at him. "What did you do now, boy? Get into another Quidditch accident? I swear, Albus, you let these children out with no protective gear - "

"No, Quidditch game is not responsible for Harry's injuries this time, Poppy." said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling, "No, his injuries were caused by his abduction by Lord Voldemort."

Her eyes went wide, and her face whitened. "What? You-Know-Who? Here?" She looked outraged, clutching at her chest. "Dear God, had he come up here, I would've taken out my potions, filled them with poision, brought out my bat and knocked him on the - "

"Thank you, Poppy," Dumbledore said sternly, but his expression was one of amusement. "Right now, Harry needs medical attention. His right leg is paining him, and I think he might have a concussion."

"Very well.." said Poppy, looking at Harry, "Dear boy, did you get skinnier over the summer?"

"Er.." said Harry, looking up at Dumbledore who had his hand on Harry's shoulder, chuckling.

"I must be going now, Poppy. Take care, Harry. I shall be speaking to you again in a little while." Dumbledore smiled at him, and released his shoulder, and Harry was bustled over to a bed by Madame Prompfrey who immediately began to check up on him. His head was the first checked.

"Hm.. it certainly looks like the after-effects of a concussion. I can get you a potion for that, no problem." She removed her hands from his tender head to examine his leg, and in the four years of knowing her, she looked absolutely appalled when she rolled up his leg sleeve. "Dear boy, what happened to you?"

"What?" asked Harry, panic rising in his chest. "Is there something wrong..?"

"Wrong? _Wrong_? Harry, you're whole leg is blistered and swollen! There's gashes.."

And Harry saw now as he leaned forward to see it. His stomach turned. His leg looked rotten, as if it were decaying. "I.. I don't know how I got that.. I.." He was truly sickened, his mind spinning. Had Voldemort placed a curse on him to deteriorate his leg? But he would have felt it, he realized. His leg felt fine when he had got away, and even when he passed out outside the grounds; What could have happened before then..?

Poppy rolled down his pants leg, looking sickened. "It looks like the effects of some kind of dark magic or curse, but I've never seen anything like this. I'll have to do extensive research. You didn't come in contact with any dark objects, did you?"

"No," Harry said meekly, "No, not that I remember.."

But he had, hadn't he? Hadn't Hermione been worried that the diary continued to possess dark magic? But would a book be strong enough to burn away his whole leg..? Swallowing through the beat of his heart pounding crazily in his throat, he asked, "Will.. will you have to amputate it..? Will it ever heal?"

"Oh, I think I'll be able to," said Poppy, staring at his leg with a stone look, "But I'm not sure. I'll have to look it up, Harry. For now, I think I can lower the swelling. Some good potions for that. It looks similar to a werewolf bite, and those are incurable. The wound is, but we have no idea if you have any effects from it. You may have come across dark magic without the realization of it. Or maybe he did something.." she was suddenly speaking soft, hissing angrily. "I tell you, madman's running around harming people - "

"Er.." Harry was about to answer her when the hospital wing doors burst open, and in walked Ron, Hermione, and shockingly, Ginny.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione ran forward, ignoring the huff of impatience by Madame Promfrey as she left to go into her office, and hugged Harry. Harry returned it, trying to put the apology he had meant to say inside it, willing her to understand, and when she pulled away, she had tears on her face, seeming to have understood. "Are you all right? Did he hurt you? How did you get away? Did he kill anyone else? Did the Order get you -?"

"Jeez, Hermione, let him catch his breath!" Ron said indignantly, but he looked utterly bemused, a nice change from when Harry had seen him earlier that night. "But Harry, I do want to know what happened." He sat down on the opposite bed, Hermione joining one side, Ginny the other.

"Thanks, Ron," said Harry, the first smile appearing on his face since the first week back to school, "No, he didn't hurt me. Or that I know of, anyway. I was out of it for the most part. In fact.. he.. he let me go." Harry looked up to see shock on all three's faces.

"He let you go?" Questioned Ron, "but when he was upstairs, before he took you, he said he was going to kill you.."

"Yeah, well, he didn't, for some reason." Harry said with a one-shouldered shrug.

"What did he want you for, then?" Asked Hermione. "Did he threaten you?"

"He.. he.. uh.." Harry could not bring himself to say it; He couldn't even think of saying it. Instead, he lied easily, "Yeah, he did, a bit. Told me not to forget that he will kill me one day."

When Ron and Hermione looked unconvinced, he said, "Honest. I don't know why. He just told me to go after he threatened me. I didn't think he would actually let me, but he did."

"But where did he take you to?" Asked Ron, leaning forward, "I should have stayed there, and stopped him, but I was too scared. I was too scared, Harry! Imagine how scared you must have been! You're the one he wants to kill." And he put his face in his hands. Ginny wrapped her arms around him.

"Ron, it's not your fault." She said. "Voldemort would have killed you had you stayed there."

"Yeah, mate, she's right," Harry agreed. "He wanted me. He got me. He would have killed you had he not been so busy with me. What I can't figure out," he said, Ron looking up removing his hands to listen, "Is what that light was I saw before he kidnapped me. It seemed to come from the room."

"What light?" Asked Ron blankly.

"There was a Green light just as he had his hand around my throat," said Harry slowly, "and I don't know what it was. Dumbledore thinks it came from my concussion, but I don't think so. I've had one before, and that never happened."

"When did you have a concussion?" Asked Ron, looking at him as if he were delusional.

"Dudley," said Harry simply. "I've always been his punching bag."

"Damned Muggles," said Ron in an undertone, earning a stern look from Hermione, "But really, you saw a Green light?"

"Yeah. I thought he'd killed you or someone who'd walked into the room or something." said Harry, "but apparently, he didn't kill anyone. Maybe that's the curse he did on me to make my leg rot."

"To make what?" Asked Hermione sharply, gazing at his legs. "Your leg's rotting?"

In response, Harry rolled up his pants leg, and showed it to Hermione, Ron and Ginny, Hermione who shrieked, and Ron and Ginny who looked sickened. Ron gulped, his face white, as Ginny looked away.

"Can.. can Madame Prompfrey do anything..?"

"I dunno." said Harry, trying not to sound afraid, but the truth was that he was terrified. "She said some dark magic or curse messed it up, or a dark object, but I don't -"

"The diary, Harry!" Hermione said suddenly, almost at a shout. "It's that damn diary, Harry! I knew it was evil, I knew it was dark! It's been cursed!"

"I don't think so," said Harry with a shrug, "I think when I tried to stab the book, Voldemort did something. Maybe he knew it could destroy him or something, even if I didn't know, so he stopped me."

"Wait, you tried to stab the diary? Like what you did in our second year to Riddle's?" asked Ginny, speaking for the first time.

Harry nodded at her. "Yeah. I thought maybe it'd make him vanish. And obviously, by the way he reacted, he knew it, too. He wouldn't let me stab it. But then, when I thought he was going to kill me, he just let me go when I got there. Didn't torture me or anything, so I don't know."

"Maybe he did, then," said Hermione, a thoughtful look on her face, "but I still think there's something in that diary that Voldemort doesn't want destroyed, that's why he stopped you."

Harry didn't respond. The truth was that he was thinking the very same thing.

They sat in silence for a long time, Harry beginning to feel the pain in his leg worsen, and by the time he groaning from the pain, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione had to leave, Madame Prompfrey keen on getting Harry pain-reducing potions immediately. As Harry lay on his bed under her care, he thought back to Dumbledore; He was looking at him now, and talking to him. Why had Dumbledore suddenly changed? And what the hell was the green light he had seen? Where had the decay from his leg come from? And most importantly, why had Voldemort kissed him?

He had so many questions, and so little answers, his mind racing, seeking to solve them, but as his eyes grew heavy, and he drifted to sleep, he found his mind hurt and succumbed to the peace of being safe and alive. He was unaware, then, when the door opened, a slow, soft creak, and footsteps padded along the wooden floors. From a figure's hand slipped a small book, falling unheardedly by Harry's bed. Red eyes watched him as he slept in the darkness, as his breathing evened and deep sleep overtoke him.

"Sleep now, Harry. Sleep soundly. You are my lullaby tonight. You always have been, will forever be; This is not our goodbye. This is not the end. It's far from it."

And the shadow depleted, swallowed in darkness, as Harry continued to sleep on, a soft laugh echoing on the walls.

**Wow, long chap. Hope you enjoyed this:)**

**Cheers, **

**Tainted Visions.**


	5. Final Destination

**In Sleep He Sang To Me**

**Summary: When a stressful fifth year at Hogwarts arises, Harry Potter uses the old diary of his nemesis to relieve some of the stress. What he doesn't know is that the mind connection between himself and Voldemort grows ever stronger, and a curse has been placed upon the diary to fufil the writer's thoughts, and allow only bad things to happen.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own. **

**Final Destination**

**"It's waiting, always trying. I feel the hands of fate, they're suffocating. Tell me what's the reason. Is it all inside my head? Can't take it no more!"**

When Harry awoke that morning, it was still dark. Blinking, he looked at the clock near his bed - 4:30 A.M. Knowing it was useless to get back to sleep when he was so wide awake, he pondered on what had awoken him in the first place. His leg didn't appear to be hurting, and his head felt light, mended. He sat there in the silence, heart beating evenly, thinking about the day ahead, and the many questions he had wanted answered. Then, suddenly, his scar gave a nasty throb, and he winced and rubbed it almost absentmindedly. It wasn't until he was looking at the floor did he fully realize what had awoken him. The diary was lying at the foot of his bed, opened.

How the hell did _that _get in here?

Harry squinted at it. Without his glasses, he couldn't see clearly, and the room was too dark to make out if there was any writing on it the page it was opened to. Slowly, Harry extended his arm over the bed and pulled it up, lying it on his lap. From what he could see, it was clean. There was no writing at all on it. He turned it over, eyes narrowed; If this indeed was the cause of his decaying leg, he would no longer take refuge in it. He would destroy it. If this was the reason his leg was so blistered, he would do as Hermione said and cleanse his life of it's corruption and evil. The quill he had left inside it when Voldemort had first kidnapped him lay inside the the cover, and as he pulled it out, he realized it was still painted with ink. That simplified matters. He raised it. It was time to get rid of it.

But maybe Hermione's wrong, said a voice in the back of his head, maybe she's overexaggerating again?

He was convinced that Voldemort had placed some kind of spell on him anyway to stop him from destroying the diary. The book was still as battered as it was in his second year when he had peirced it with a Basilisk fang, so it was still destructable, and most likely not a threat anymore. Voldemort knew all kinds of advanced magic, and it was most likely the most reasonable conclusion. The book was harmless now. All that remained of it was a small book that was meant to be written in it; No curse could possibly inhabit it, at least that's what he told himself. Dumbledore would have known when he had first tested it back in his second year. Dumbledore wouldn't possibly just hand him something dangerous... right?

Making up his mind, Harry slowly pressed the quill to the page and began to write.

_This has been one weird night. First, I get kidnapped by Voldemort from inside my own room, and how the hell he managed to get inside Hogwarts remains a mystery to me when there's Umbridge and security all over the place and this castle has an anti-apparation spell that not even he can break. Second, he takes me to some weird house in the Forbidden Forest, and whether it's his house or not, I don't know. All I remember about it was that it wasn't a fancy-looking one; Must be some kind of hideout he's had since last year when he came back or something. He thinks I know why he tried to kill me, but why the bloody hell would I know? I can't look into a maniac's mind. I'm not as advanced as Snape! Speaking of him, I keep wondering why he was looking at me like that when he and Dumbledore found me outside the school. There's something off about him, and I want to know what. But there's really something off with Voldemort. Why did he.. kiss me? Why did he let me leave without even torturing me (unless he decided I was tortured enough already with a rotted leg!)? Why is Dumbledore talking to me now? I just want to know... WHAT. THE. HELL. IS. GOING. ON?!_

And he slammed the book shut. His soul immediately felt cleansed, as if a weight were being taken off his shoulders. He smiled, and lay the book underneath the bed, hidden from view. It took him a moment for the realization to hit him: he had written in the diary again. Slumping his shoulders, he sighed. What was he supposed to do? It felt easier writing these things out rather than speaking about them. It was like a haven, a refuge, and he didn't want to let that go. But at the same time, he knew, although he hated to admit it, that Hermione may be right about the book in the first place. Ginny had trusted the book, and it had led to her possession and attacking people with Voldemort's soul stuck inside her. But as he had thought earlier, he knew that the diary wasn't as powerful as before; That was, in fact, his standing argument. The broke curse when the soul inside it did. Hadn't it?

He groaned in frustation, not knowing what to do, and leaned back against his pillow. He'd think more on it, later. Right now, the sun was coming up, which meant Madame Prompfrey would be out to check on him soon, and Dumbledore would most likely come up and interrogate him, and he had to focus all his intentions on making sure that Dumbledore didn't find out the truth; After all, he had fought off the Imperius Curse, hadn't he? He could fight off something as simple and less enhanted as a truth-telling potion, couldn't he? He cleared his mind of all thought, focusing only on the lie to Dumbledore he knew he must give. He didn't know why he felt so dormant on keeping it inside. He didn't know why he felt so eager to keep the truth with him only, like a secret taken to the grave. All he knew was how he felt about how it would feel if it got out, and he swore he didn't want that to happen.

He apparently had been thinking too much, because Poppy was already out in her dressing gown examining him, and speaking to him firmly.

"Dear, boy, are you deaf?"

Harry looked up, "No, sorry, I was just thinking..."

She grimaced. "You shouldn't be up this early. You should be resting."

Harry groaned inwardly. "It was hard to sleep."

"I should have given you a dream-less sleep potion - remind me to tonight. Anyway, I have some news for you. I've stayed up half the night researching the effects of dark magic, and I've found nothing. I will do more tonight. For now, I'm giving you a pain-reducing potion, and though I would normally not encourage you to walk, these are not normal circumstances, therefore, I am allowing you to walk for twenty minutes a day for the next two weeks. It may help the curse, if there is one. And maybe we - that including Dumbledore, Severus, and myself - will find you a cure. After all, we can't be certain it was the cause of dark magic..." She explained.

Harry tensed. "But.. you said last night it most likely was..."

"It certainly looks like it, but the Dark Lord has many spells in his arsenal that are clever, though horrendous.. and perhaps he restrained from using dark magic upon you, though I can't imagine why.." She huffed. "He was a brilliant student here back in the day.. smarts that could have gone for some good.."

Harry, who's anger grew by the minute as she spoke of Voldemort as though he were some excellent quarry, asked, in a controlled steady voice, "He was very smart, intelligent, but he would never have used his smarts for good.. so what he used on me had to be dark magic; it's all he uses."

"Yes," she agreed, though she didn't seem pleased about being condtadicted, "so, roll up your pants leg, Mister Potter. I'll need to see if it's gotten worse."

Harry did so, and no sooner had he lifted it did Madame Prompry gasped. "Dear Lord!"

"What?" Asked Harry urgently. Had his leg gotten worse?

"I've never seen anything like it!" She looked completely awed. "Your leg is completely healed, boy!"

Harry, nearly falling off his bed in disbelief, looked. There was no blisters, no sign of decay, whatsoever. On the contrary, it looked almost brand new, as if it hadn't been attacked or hurt in years. He gaped at it, not sure what to do or say, except let the fear that had embraced him vanish, and replace with elation he hadn't expected to come for days, weeks. "Wow.. I... that was.. fast.."

"I'll quite agree!" She rolled it back down, looking confused but satisfied. "All right, then, Mister Potter, just to be safe, I'm giving you a pain-reducing potion for the whole day, and you will spend one more night here. If it does not return, then I'll, though shockingly, say that the curse, or spell, whatever it was, has eradicated. But I don't want you to overdo it, Harry. Just because something isn't there does not mean that deep inside it isn't."

Harry nodded. "Okay."

She smiled. "I must inform the Headmaster of this immediately."

And then she had gone out of the door, leaving Harry alone. His heart was pounding fiercely, feeling better than he had ever felt, happier than he had since he could remember; He felt like there wasn't a care in the world, a worry he should acknowledge, a battle he should fight. Everything felt.. better now.

Harry was so estatic that he would be able to go outside and walk on a completely healed leg that he didn't realize it until the last minute that Poppy had come back, and Dumbledore was sitting on the edge of his bed, frowning.

"Harry, Poppy tells me that your leg has healed."

Harry smiled. "Yes, Professor! Completely!"

Dumbledore, either against his will or not, smiled. "Excellent, Harry. Apparently, it was not dark magic that was executed, but a temporary twenty-four hour jinx. Which makes matters easier, for us, then. However, Harry, like I told you yesterday, I want all of the details of what went down between you and Voldemort yesterday evening."

Harry's stomach dropped. "I told you, though, already sir."

"Yes, but there is a chance that Voldemort placed a memory charm on you when he had knocked you unconcious to keep you from remembering anything, or else to hide something from us. The more information we have, the better chanc we have of figuring this out. This is Verritaserum, Harry. We will start when Professor Snape comes." Dumbledore handed Harry the small bottle filled with liquid, and Harry's stomach sank even further. Snape was coming? But he would know if Harry was attempting to block it! He would sense, with his legilimency skills, if Harry were diverting the truth.

At that moment, the door opened, and Snape entered, staring at Harry, and Harry's heart beat frantically as Dumbledore also turned to look at him, though his face became impassive, as if he had nothing to hide.

Snape's black eyes flickered. "Mister Potter, in a moment, please drink the contents of the potion; Immediately after, questioning will begin. Try as you might to resist, should you try, the truth will be revealed, no matter how accomplished your resistance skills are. The truth-telling potions tells no lies, and hides no secrets. It should also be noted that the effects will wear off somewhere between a half-hour to an hour, so you should stay lying down until that hour ends. As of this moment, questioning has begun. Now kindly drink the potion."

Harry did as he was told, but his heart was accelerating; He raised the potion to his lips and swallowed, grimacing as it went down his throat, with a bitter taste. Immediately, he felt as if he were laying upon a cloud, no fear or worry to even contemplate, and he felt like telling the truth was a simple, easy matter indeed. But it wasn't, he reminded himself. He had to lie. He focused hard, trying to recollate that feeling of desperation, but he knew his attempt was failing. The potion was too strong, and before he could try and progress it further, Dumbledore was speaking to him.

"You are Harry James Potter, 15, born July 31st, in the year of 1980, correct?"

"Yes," Answered Harry without effort. He began to fight again.

"Last night, you were abducted by Lord Voldemort from inside the castle, correct?"

"Yes," Harry repeated, and his desperation grew to a breaking point.

"Would you please tell me exactly what happened?"

"I was lying on my bed talking to Ron. No, apologizing," Harry said. _No, shut up, don't tell him about the diary! _"I said some things I hadn't meant to. Ron was talking to me, and then he stopped. I thought that I had said something wrong, but then he pointed behind me. I had no idea what he meant, so I turned to look, and then Voldemort had his hand over my mouth. I tried to fight him off, and I hit him on the side of the head, and then he let me go. But then he grabbed my throat instead, and threw me onto the floor. I remember hitting my head, and then I heard footsteps and I knew Ron had run out for help. So I grabbed the closest thing near me and tried to -"

"What did you grab, Harry?"

"The diary." said Harry. _Oh, no! No!_ "Voldemort's old diary. I've been keeping it for a long time. Forgot I had it, and since my bag and contents were lying all over the floor, I grabbed a pen and tried to stab the diary. I thought maybe it would make him go away. He obviously thought so, too, and did something. He said something about 'not today' and 'never', and that's when he took me. When I fell unconcious, I saw a green light, and I thought I was dead."

Dumbledore had paled. "What happened afterwards? Where had he taken you? What did he do or say to you?"

"He took me to some house, and it was in the Forbidden Forest. I don't know where, or what, but it was small. When I woke up, he was sitting in front of me. I knew he was going to kill me, so I told him to get on with it. He said he didn't want to kill me. I asked him why, and he said he liked seeing me suffer too much. So I asked him why he tried to kill me when I was a baby, hoping that would tempt him. He said you knew why, but you wouldn't tell me. He also said he thought I knew. But then he did something.. no.. he kept doing something..."

"What did he do, Harry?" Asked Dumbledore quietly.

"He.. he kept touching me.." _NO! No more! Keep your mouth shut! _"... And.. I told him to stop, but he said I was his.. I belonged to him.. he kept on.. He told me.."

"What did he tell you, Harry?" Dumbledore spoke through a lump in his throat.

"He... he...told me to give into.. him... he kept saying it.. I kept telling him no.. then he..."

"Then he what, Harry?" The voice was soft.

"He.. no.. no.. I can't.. No! NO!"

And then it was broken, and all he knew was pain, the wracks of his body that ran down his spine, the tears running down his face, and Dumbledore's soft hand lying on his shoulder.

"It's all right, Harry."

Harry was shocked to hear Dumbledore's voice shaking. "Severus, please get him a shock-reducing potion and Calming Draught."

He heard Snape's footsteps and knew he had gone to get what Dumbledore asked him of. He hid his face as he raised his knees and brought them to his chest, hoping to crush the hollow feeling he felt there. In a moment, the footsteps were back, and two potions were ushered, gently, into his hands, and he drank them obediently, feeling the feeling of calmness spread over him and he looked up, his tears still pouring soundlessly down his face. Snape was watching him intently, no cold or sneering look, only concern and, could it be, sympatheticness on his face? Harry glanced to Dumbledore, who patted his shoulder reassuringly.

"I'll leave you until tomorrow, Harry. Then we shall try again. I should have realized it would not be easy for you to tell me something. I knew you were keeping a secret from me.. and I am not mad, nor am I upset that you didn't confide it in me. Why would you, after my lack of acknowledging you these past few weeks?"

The older man sighed, and relinquished his hand. "Enjoy your day, Harry. I only hope your friends can make you feel better than I can do.."

And then he was gone, looking tired and weary as every man his age, and Harry couldn't help but feel guilt and self-resentment at himself for upsetting Dumbledore. Snape, however, had a furious look on his face, and Harry felt sure for a moment that he was going to yell at him, but then he had walked out too, after Dumbledore, and Harry felt that own resentment increase at what his witholding had caused.

**Sorry there's not much plot today - I'm trying to set the chapters up at an interval rate, so then it can make sense, and not rush into things. :)**

**Hope you liked it, nonetheless. **

**We'll see Sirius next chapter! And Lupin, too, if I can manage! Also, Voldemort's back! Halleluijah! Ron, Hermione, Ginny, the twins, and other friends too. Oh, and Umbridge. LOL!**

**Until (most likely, depending on the weather) tomorrow,**

**Tainted Visions**


	6. We Are

**In Sleep He Sang To Me**

**Summary: ****When a stressful fifth year at Hogwarts arises, Harry Potter uses the old diary of his nemesis to relieve some of the stress. What he doesn't know is that the mind connection between himself and Voldemort grows ever stronger, and a curse has been placed upon the diary to fufil the writer's thoughts, and allow only bad things to happen.**

**Disclaimer: Still do not own.. how many times have I said that already? ;) XD**

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**We Are**

**"Keep watching from your picket fence. You keep talking, but it makes no sense! You say we're not responsible, but we are, we are. "**

"So, you're telling me the boy had a bit of an... accident?"

Dolores Umbridge looked up from her tea - pink like everything else she had - to look Minerva McGonagall in the eye.

The older woman shifted, "Yes, Dolores. Mr. Potter was abducted from the school... and returned. However, according to Poppy, he was severely injured, then healed without any medical aid whatsoever. So, Dumbledore is especially keen on ensuring that he has extended time between classes, and any sign of injury or of recurring blistering should be reported to Poppy immediately."

Umbridge put on a fake smile. "And who is responsibile for kidnapping the boy, Minerva?"

McGonagall's lip twitched, "Why, You-Know-Who himself."

Umbridge laughed, and set down her drink, and Minerva gave her a hard look. "Yes, yes, I thought it'd be something like this, dear Minerva. Dumbledore and Potter no doubt thought this would be an excellent excuse to explain why Mr. Potter was out of bed after hours, and returned the next morning. Curiously, Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen during this whole time Mr. Potter was away, and it's likely the two were in some secret area planning it."

"How think are you?!" Snapped Minerva, standing at a frightening height, "You refuse to believe the truth we're telling you, when he was here, in this very castle, Dolores! He's right under your nose, and you're playing right into his hands, ignoring his reappearance. Mr. Potter has the effects of dark magic, that severely injured him - "

"But apparently, those injures have healed rather nicely, and there's no evidence it was dark magic at all, therefore no proof it was You-Know-Who who caused it. Yes, I see what's happening here; It was a nice little cover story, in Potter's opinion, another figment of the boy's imagination. He's seeking more attention, and coming up with these nasty little lies to discredit the ministry. I won't have it." Umbridge said, putting on a false lit smile, sickeningly sweet, filled with a facade that Minverva could see easily past.

"We have Ron Weasley's testimony that it was, in fact, You-Know-Who who kidnapped Harry Potter. He was in the room when it happened."

"Of course, I understand - he's going to lie for his best friend, that much is obvious, how close those two are -"

Minvera snarled in frustration. "What's obvious is the rock you're living under. You can't face the truth, and that shows just how weak you, and the ministry itself, are."

Umbridge, who had been watching the elder woman with a look of pure malice, suddenly stood, eyebrow twitching furiously on her toad-like face. "What did you say?"

"Wow, you're deaf, now, too. Charming." said Minerva, unfazed by Umbridge's anger explosion. "I'm going to get straight to the point - if you refuse to believe what's in front of your eyes, I honestly feel compassion for you; You're going to let him run amuck, and now that he can get into the school even through anti-apparation jinxes suggests he has other ways of entering the school. And I will not let him harm Harry if my life depends on it. You may not like Potter, you may even hate him, but should something happen to him, it's on your, and the ministry's shoulders, for not stopping it. That boy's your only hope to stop You-Know-Who, and if you'd rather he were dead, and leave you and the rest of the world unprotected, and left at You-Know-Who's mercy, then so be it. But Albus, Severus, and I, will not stand for it, and we will fight to protect him. I hope you see reason."

And before Umbridge could do more than raise her eyebrows at an alarming height, Minerva turned and swept from the room, lip curled in fury. Umbridge was putting not only herself, but Harry, and everyone within a twenty-mile radius, in extreme danger. She only hoped it would not be too late when the woman finally saw reason, and accepted the truth.

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Dumbledore smiled slightly as he stood in front of the Order of the Phoenix members, who were all huddled around the table, eyeing him (Sirius especially) wearily.

"Albus, Severus tells us something happened to Harry.." Remus Lupin stood, face pale and ill-looking as it always did, now, but there was deep concern in his eyes. Sirius made a move to get up, but Dumbledore raised a hand to calm them, and the Black-haired man slowly, and hesitantly, sat down again.

"Harry was kidnapped yesterday evening by Lord Voldemort."

There were several loud gasps, and Sirius now shot up from his chair, face white, and body shaking. "WHAT?!"

"Now, now, Sirius, he's back, and fine." said Dumbledore, smiling reassuringly at the sometimes-overdramatic-Godfather. "He only had a slight injury that managed to heal on it's own, and he's eating fine and sleeping well. I'm allowing anyone who wants to to come to the school and see him."

Ron and Hermione, sitting in the back of the room, suddenly pushed forward, and Hermione opened her mouth. "When -"

"Miss Granger, you may visit Harry anytime today you want." said Albus smiling at the young girl. "However, for your own safety, do not go alone. An adult, preferably an Order member, will escort you to and from the school. Also, Harry will be staying here for the Chrismas Holidays, which are so rapidly approaching us. So since tomorrow is the last day of school for awhile, Harry will be brought here."

"Good," said Sirius, rumaging a hand through his hair. "Finally a friendly face."

Severus, who was standing beside Potter's two friends, smirked. "Ah, yes, Black, hopefully now you will actually get off your bum and do something."

Sirius rounded on him, "Shut up, Snivellous!"

"_Sirius_!" said Lupin sharply, and the other man sighed deeply, turning back to Dumbledore. Severus looked back to the elder man as well, not hiding his triumphant smile. Dumbledore, however, turned away from his gaze and addressed Molly and Arthur Weasley.

"Arthur, _it_ needs to be protected more than ever. Harry told me that Voldemort thought he knew the secret, and he knew that I knew; The sooner we get it, the better for Harry. It seems likely Voldemort will interrogate him again."

Arthur nodded slowly, red hair not quite matching with his suddenly pale face. "All right, Albus."

"But what happened between Voldemort and Harry?" Asked Sirius loudly. "He didn't.. he didn't threaten...?"

"Somewhat, Sirius," said Dumbledore softly, "However, we, that is to say Severus and I, interrogated Harry about what happened, should Voldemort have given him a memory charm or some other spell to deflect the truth. I knew Harry had been hiding something from me, you see, and in the end, he overcame the effect of Veritasserum, which I knew meant he had every intention of keeping it from me. Harry, in the long run, told us that Voldemort had not even tortured him. He hurt him in no way. He just gave Harry a reminder that it wasn't over yet, and kept trying to get the answer out of him. But Harry, before defeating the Verritaserum, told us that Voldemort's old diary, when the Dark Lord was known as Tom Riddle, was kept as a souvinere, he claims, and that when he tried to destroy it, Voldemort put some spell on him to rot his right leg."

"Rot his _what_?!" Shouted Sirius, eyes flashing angrily. "I thought you said -!"

"Calm yourself, Sirius," said Dumbledore sharply, and Sirius grew silent at once. "Harry's leg, unaided by medical purposes, has healed. Rather nicely, so, too. Which confuses me. Perhaps it was a twenty-four hour jinx, but it looked more like the effects of some dark magic, and as to why it healed so quickly, when curses like that are usually impossible to mend, is a mystery."

"Shouldn't you be content that it did?" Asked Sirius miserably, running a hand through his dark hair.

"Yes, I am, Sirius, but I believe there's something more going on here that I will need to find the answer to. It's up to you," and now Dumbledore faced and spoke to everyone in the room, but particularly eyeing Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Ginny, and Severus. "to get him to speak, to tell you why he's sought refuge in this diary. He's written in it, I am sure, and I'm unconvinced the curse as eradicated fully, so please get him to tell you anything he knows, or that might of be of importance."

They all nodded slowly.

Dumbledore smiled. "Good. I must get back to the school, now, but you all may go and see him at your heart's content. Good day."

The old man smiled serenly at them and disapparated. Ginny and Ron turned to Hermione.

"Do you think Harry's written in the diary?" Ginny asked softly, keen to keep Snape, who was standing just behind her, out of their conversation.

"I'm almost sure of it," said Hermione, her eyebrows narrowed angrily. "He kept saying he was just keeping it, but I knew that he wouldn't go long without even writing in it. All of the stress this year with Umbridge.. I'd have been surprised if he didn't."

"And you believe what Dumbledore said about the curse not being fully gone?"

"Dark magic never really fades, Ron," said Hermione in exasperation, as if explaining it to a five year old child, "It eradicates for awhile, or appears to, but it's effects are always there. Just like with Harry's leg. I don't think it will forever go away, but it appears that it has. And I have a theory on that."

"What?" asked Ginny.

"I believe that the diary caused him to injure his leg, not _Voldemort_. I think the dark magic from the diary itself caused his leg to rot, and when he writes in it, it goes away. There's only one way to be sure, though. We have to take the diary and see if he's written in it, but to do that, we need to make a diversion, and that's where you come in, Professor," and Hermione unexpectedly turned to Snape, who looked somewhat appalled that she had included him. "We need you to stall Harry and do whatever you can to get his attention."

"Miss Granger, while I appreciate the offer, do you expect me to get Potter's attention?" Asked Severus with a snarl. "The boy probably won't even look at me much less speak to me."

"Oh, insult him, you had no problem with it before, it should be easy by now." Said Ron, eyes narrowed.

Severus's face hardened. "Excuse me, Weasley, although it's none of your business, I care deeply about P- Harry, and encouraged him to do better. Even if it was a bit rational at times, I've always cared about him and what's best for him. Quite frankly, I never thought that you were a good enough friend for him, but he chose to be friends with you. You really don't seem to care if you insist I beat him down, which I have no intention of doing."

He turned to go, but Hermione ran forward with a plea in her eyes. "No, please, Professor Snape! Ignore Ron, he's an idiot. We need your help.. you could tell Harry something that would get his attention. Something he wouldn't expect."

Severus looked down at her, hardly daring to let go of the cold look upon his face. Something that Potter wouldn't expect? Something that would get his attention? The one thing that Albus had always said Harry should know, but he always hid from the boy? Hadn't Albus said that it would bring the two of them closer? Wasn't that what he wanted? He sighed; He'd tell him. The secret had been between him and Albus for too long, and the boy deserved to know, because how much time did he have, really? How long would it be before he really did slip away, either into darkness or death, without knowing the truth? He had been lied to for too long, decieved too many times - now it was time for truth.

"All right, Miss Granger. I'll do it."

And without waiting for a reply, he swept from the room, Hermione turning to Ron and Ginny beaming.

"If Harry thinks he can hide the truth, even through Veritasserum, he's sadly mistaken - We're going to get the truth out of him! Even if we have to take his only refuge away..."

Ron and Ginny nodded slowly.

"Let's just hope he doesn't hate us after this..."

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**Ohh, cliffhanger. Next chapter, the diary is stolen! Harry gets another injury, and VOLDEMORT will be back. Sorry for not including him this chap, but I wanted it done, since I haven't updated in like, a week, so next chap is better, I think. What do you think Snape will tell Harry? What deep, dark secret does he have only shared between him and Albus? **

**Until the next chap,**

**Tainted Visions**


	7. Taking Over Me

**In Sleep He Sang To Me**

**Summary: When a stressful fifth year at Hogwarts arises, Harry Potter uses the old diary of his nemesis to relieve some of the stress. What he doesn't know is that the mind connection between himself and Voldemort grows ever stronger, and a curse has been placed upon the diary to fufil the writer's thoughts, and allow only bad things to happen.**

**Disclaimer: No, do not own. . . **

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**Taking Over Me**

**"I believe in you. I'll give up everything just to find you. I need to be with you - to live, to breathe, you're taking over me. . . "**

_Harry..._

_Skeletal hands were running along his arms, a consistant touch, slithering like a serpent down his flesh, unbidden, unwelcomed, yet so soothing. They sent chills down his spine, and he wanted to protest against it, but at the same time, it was comforting, as if it was a feeling he needed a long time ago. Too long ago. He looked up into the scarlet red eyes that had haunted his dreams for years, the constant reminder, always there like a nagging headache, the imprint like the scar upon his forehead, and felt no real sense of fear; Fear, of which he had always known, did not consume him now. He was not afraid, of him, of those red eyes that was meant to be the last thing he was to see, or of death. He knew nothing was to be feared from death - not tonight. Not now. The hands had embraced his shoulders, running down his neck like a parent would hold a child. He felt protection, even refuge as the enemy he was always sworn to hate held him in his arms. He could not hate him. He could not flinch away from what he was thinking was a trick; Perhaps his mind failed to comprehend it, perhaps his heart failed to be decieved yet again - all he knew was that the person who held him now, his enemy for eternity, his life and yet his death, his hatred and yet his love, was the one who would sheild him, from the world, from the pain, from death, and gave in. _

"_No_!"

His eyes snapped open, fear swallowing him like the darkness in the room. His heart, beating frantically against his ribcage, seemed to be his alarm, and he sat up in bed, looking around for the red eyes he was sure he would see. But they were nowhere to be seen. _He_ was nowhere to be seen. Harry sighed in relief, and sat back against his pillow. It took him a moment to realize that his scar was throbbing. He winced quietly and he pressed his hand to it, barely acknowledging it as he thought back on the dream. It was one thing to dream about Voldemort - it was another to dream about feeling safe with him. Repulsion and guilt overtook him. He was supposed to hate him, supposed to want to kill him for murdering his parents, supposed to disdain his slimy touch and red eyes with slits, and instead he was welcoming it as if it were some cherished memory, some kind of act of love or acceptance and safety. Protection. Refuge.

A sudden shadow passed over the moonlit floor, then, and Harry's hand automatically withdrew, his eyes avidly watching the floor, his heart beating rapidly.

The shadow came again, and Harry systematically felt around the bedside table for his glasses, but they were not there; They had broken when Voldemort had first kidnapped him. _Gee, fate sure does pick the perfect oppurtunities for me to lose things, doesn't it? _Harry thought miserably, and he rose slowly from his bed, carefully keeping his gaze on the floor, and the wand held tightly in his hand; He had learned not to think the worst was over, even before it had even begun.

He hardly dared to breathe as the shadow overpassed again, just a foot infront of him. He backed up, nearly falling over his bed, and raised his wand.

"Really, Harry, it wouldn't do to blast out the wall, now." came a drawl voice from behind him.

Harry turned so fast he tripped over the sheets hanging off his bed and onto the floor. He had a sudden urge to laugh at his own clumsiness, but the fear was back, and his hand shook as he pointed it infront of the skeletal figure standing in the doorway. Voldemort gave him a snarky look.

"Are you going to kill me, Harry? Are you going to try and cause me pain?"

Harry's wand hand was beginning to shake harder, and he quickly scrambled to his feet, which were cold across the stone floor. "What do you want?"

"Oh, just a visit," said Voldemort conversationally, and at Harry's suspicious look, elaborated, "Really, now, Harry, I do not seek to kill you. Not under these circumstances, in this place. . . it's just not the setting, and doesn't have the feel. . . and besides, I am not in a killing mood tonight."

"Oh, so people only need to die when you _feel like it_?" spat Harry angrily. "So it's up to _you_ when people die?"

Voldemort's mouth twitched into something like a smile. "For the most part, but important deaths need to be planned out, really. There's no fun if it happens suddenly."

"In other words, you're just going to play with me until you decide to kill me." said Harry in a cold, calm voice, eyes narrowed.

Voldemort frowned, "I don't see it like that, but if you choose to . . . "

"So what really is your intention here tonight if it's not to kill me?"

"I already told you, Harry, and that is to visit a dear friend."

"We're not friends," said Harry in a tight snarl, "we're far from it. We're enemies, if you've forgotten. We're eternal enemies, and we hate one another, one of us is going to die by the other's hand, and we won't stop until the other is -"

"But it doesn't have to be that way, does it?" asked Voldemort, his eyes watching Harry's intently.

Harry, who had opened his mouth to continue, immediately backtracked. "What?"

"People can change their fates, their destinies, their lives. You know that as well as I. It's all down to the choices we make, isn't it? Like the choice between love and hate? So let me ask you this, Harry: What do you feel for _me_?"

Harry was getting more confused by the minute. "What do I feel for you? I hate you, you know that, you feel the same for me."

"True," said Voldemort inclining his head, and he took several paces closer to Harry, who immediately stepped backward. "But I think you're afraid to admit your true feelings. Do you feel something else for me other than hate?"

Harry's breathing labored as he ran out of room to backtrack as Voldemort advanced further; "No, no, I hate you! I don't pity you, respect you, or fear you! I sure as hell don't like you!"

But Voldemort was smiling sardonically now. "Fear grows in you like a tree - you can't deny that. I know you fear me, but that's beside the point - what I asked you was if you feel other feelings besides hate - "

"I HATE YOU!" roared Harry, and he lost track of what he was doing, apalled at his own actions, as he leapt at the man before him, fists curled into a ball as he socked the Dark Lord in the face.

The two of them fell to the floor, Harry with his hand on Voldemort's throat and wand pointing threateningly at it, seething. Voldemort seemed shocked for the briefest moment before a smirk curved onto his lipless mouth. "Impressive, Harry, but that's just not good enough. You'll never be strong enough, or good enough, to compete with me."

And then a skeletal hand was around Harry's throat, and in shock, Harry's wand fell to the floor, and his fear grew heavier as he attempted to seize it, and failed as he was lifted into the air by Voldemort.

"HE-"

Harry's scream for help was cut off when Voldemort wrapped the other hand around the boy's mouth, growling. "Shut up."

Struggling against him, Harry was barely aware that Voldemort was taking him from the room. His desperation grew into panic, but now his energy was fading, and his limbs were growing weak and light as tiredness overcame him. He was suffocating from the cold hand around his throat, and could not breathe through his mouth. Everything was growing darker and louder, like a blaring through a tunnel, and just when he thought he would be swallowed by darkness, it was lifted. The hand around his throat withdrew. He just now realized he was being pressed against a firm wall, and only remembered that Voldemort was there when he spoke in a whisper, "Do you promise not to scream?"

Harry nodded vigerously, keen to breathe, keen to get air. The hand around his mouth was removed, and he automatically took in lungfuls of fresh air, his throat searing and burning from the choke hold. Coughs wracked his body, and he tenderly rubbed his sore throat. Only after he could breathe again did he look up. Voldemort was standing with his arm around his shirt collar, and Harry felt the gravity underneath his feet shift as he was lifted again. "As amusing as that little outburst of your's was, I have matters to discuss with you."

Harry was sure he wouldn't be up for conversing at the moment, his throat was throbbing painfully, but he looked up into the red eyes and nodded curtly to show that he was listening.

"Do you remember the other night, Harry?" Voldemort spoke quietly after a moment. "When I invited you to take a trip with me?"

Harry snorted; _Trip_? _Invited_? If he called taking someone from their own room against their will an invitation, he'd hate to see what an actual invitation was in Voldemort's mind. But Harry cleared his throat and whispered out with a croak, "Yes.."

Voldemort seemed to smile. "You remember when we. . . kissed?"

"_You_ kissed _me_," Harry reminded him angrily. "It wasn't like _I_ came at_ you_, and obviously, I remember!"

The Dark Lord waved a hand impatiently. "It matters not! Do you remember. . . how it felt. . . ? Do you remember. . . _liking it_?"

If Harry would have screamed out from shock, it would have been now, but instead, he pretended to act insulted by the whole thing. "Like it? _Like it_? A kiss. . . from my worst enemy? How would you like it if I just suddenly came at _YOU_?"

Voldemort ignored this comment. "You made me feel a way I have never felt around you, Harry Potter. For once, we were not bonded by hate. . . but don't think. . . don't illusion yourself with the idea that this is all over - it's far from it. Don't think I'm suddenly in love with you. . . not that I'd want to be, anyway."

"Glad to know that's cleared up," said Harry. "Because I feel the same way."

The elder's nostrils flared, "Yes, well, I'm going to kill you one day, and one act, one moment of. . . weakness. . . will not stop me. Just thought you needed a reminder that all of this is not over, not even by a longstretch."

Harry stared back into the scarlet eyes and relayed the message he knew the other was giving; Nothing would stop them from murdering eachother. Not even a kiss. Voldemort hadn't changed in the slightest, their hatred hadn't parted, and they were still eachother's lives and deaths, like it always was, and will always be. It appeared that destinies did not change, or Voldemort was keen to not let it do so.

"Now, Harry, I believe you know a deep secret. . . what has Dumbledore told you?" Voldemort's soft tone that he had used before suddenly became ice-like and cold, down to business; Harry felt his spine shiver underneath it, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"He hasn't told me anything," said Harry, fighting hard not to look away underneath Voldemort's intense gaze, "He only just started to talk to me again, and he hasn't said anything about any kind of secret. What the hell are you talking about?"

Voldemort, however, looked satisfied. "I'll take your word for it this time, Potter, but should you be lying to me. . . and believe me, I shall know, you won't get off so easily."

There was a moment's silence in which they gazed at one another, lost in eachother, Green eyes staring into Red, which was broken by the sound of distant footsteps. Voldemort released Harry immediately, and Harry fell to the floor unadapted to the sudden decrease in gravity. Voldemort nodded to him, and Harry was confused on whether he should nod back. "Until next time, Harry Potter."

And then, and Harry didn't quite see how it happened, he was gone. Bright light, which blurred at his unkempt vision, unfocused him in pondering how Voldemort could have left when he did not apparate or disapparate - Voldemort was using other methods of reappearing and disappearing, then.

Harry was so lost in thought that he did not see two pairs of feet scuddle down beside him, and only realized it when gentle hands seized his shoulders.

"Harry, what happened? Are you all right? What happened to you?"

He looked into Hermione's concerned face, and remembered; of course, his throat had to be blistered red by now. "_He_. . . _he_ was here. . . "

She immediately paled, and turned to a white-faced Ron, both of whom were still in their night robes, and turned back to Harry again. "Voldemort?"

Harry nodded, and tenderly rubbed his throat again, wincing as his fingers made contact. For the briefest moment, they felt quite unlike his own - warm, soft, gentle but cold, hard, and skeletal, and pulled them away. He could still feel Voldemort's fingers around his throat, the icy coldness that had nothing to do with the room temperature making him shiver.

"What did he want?" Hermione asked sharply, face growing paler by the minute, "And more importantly, how did he get in here?"

"I don't know," said Harry in a croak, "He didn't disapparate, I would've heard the crack, but there was light, Green light."

Ron's mouth fell open in shock. "Harry, didn't you say you saw Green light when You-Know-Who first kidnapped you?"

"Yeah. . . " said Harry slowly. "Wait. . . that's probably it! That's probably his new method of dispparation!"

"Or his new method of causing you pain." said Hermione, and she pointed beside Harry, "look, Harry."

Harry did, and gasped; The diary, which he could not remember bringing into the room at any point during the duration of the night, was lying open on the floor. He reached forward and seized it, his mind racing; Hadn't Voldemort departed just beside him? Hermione appeared to be thinking that, too, and wrenched the diary from Harry's slackened hand.

"I'm taking this to Dumbledore, Harry. Voldemort's obviously using this to get in and out of the school at his will."

She stood, and turned to go, but Harry was on his feet now, too, and he reached forward and seized her by the front of her robes, and not even her look of stunned fear or Ron's gasp could contain him. His eyes burned, and he shut them from the force, then reopened them again. They felt smaller, and his vision was suddenly 20-20, perfect, clearer than what his glasses could have ever provided. "_No, you're not_."

His voice even sounded different, higher, colder; In shock, he glanced down at his hands that were still tightly wrapped around Hermione's robes, and gasped in horror. They were no longer human hands, but skeletal, white fingers, thin as lines of flesh. He nearly retched, and his hands withdrew from Hermione's robes, and he stumbled backward, scared, terrified. What was happening to him? The mirror to his right found him, and he looked into it, seeing the reflection of his worst enemy staring back at him. He screamed in horror, and brought his fist through the thick glass, breaking the image, which shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces.

He looked down at his hands now, which were stained with blood as it poured endlessly through his fist and down his wrist and forearm, and there was burning and pain, and he fell to the floor, hitting his feet upon the small shards of glass, cutting them; He could hear Hermione screaming and crying, and Ron shouting for help, but he barely acknowledged it; He felt numb, detatched, and he had become the person he always swore he would never be - Voldemort. His hands were feeling around on the floor, and they picked up upon the one thing he had not expected to find - the pen he had used when he had written in the diary.

And then his mind became oddly clear all of a sudden - he knew what he had to do. He lunged up and seized the diary from Hermione's slackened grip, and plunged the pen through it. Immediately he felt pain, such pain he never knew before, such agony he was sure not even the cruciatus curse could cause. He screamed so hard and loud he thought his throat might tear, as wave and wave of pain crashed over him. He wanted to die, now. He hoped Voldemort would come back and put him out of his misery, complete the one mission that had been his own existance for so long -

But then he knew it was over, as the screams finally died away in his throat, and everything faded into complete silence - death - and faded to black.

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**Wow, poor Harry! **

**Next chap, Snape and the other's ponder on what happened with the diary (as does Harry), and Harry of course ponders on what the hell just happened to him. So there you go, one revelation. But here's the important bit: you haven't seen the last of the diary. At all. It's back next chapter, and so is Harry's fist dark-entry. **

**Also: The fact that Harry turned into Voldemort's essence is going to be VERY important. How important? Like, VERY. Not the whole point of the story, but very important to the plot of OOTP, which I do intend to follow (some plot lines, anyway - prophecy, mind-connection, hint, hint). But no Sirius death! I cannot kill him. . . I love him. . . XD **

**Anyway. . . . hope to update soon. LOL. I've been kind of lazy! Hope you enjoyed!**

**BTW: I SOOO loved writing the whole Harry-Voldemort-disscussion bit. XD**


	8. Down With The Sickness

**In Sleep He Sang To Me**

**Summary: When a stressful fifth year at Hogwarts arises, Harry Potter uses the old diary of his nemesis to relieve some of the stress. What he doesn't know is that the mind connection between himself and Voldemort grows ever stronger, and a curse has been placed upon the diary to fufil the writer's thoughts, and allow only bad things to happen.**

**Disclaimer: Do not own HP. **

**A/N: Yes, I'm deciding to keep this compliant with HBP and somewhat of DH. Though, no hunt for the Horcruxes will be included; I just wanted to keep the fact that Harry is one in, and before it was meant to come out, and the Severus/Lily aspect will be included. Everything else is all AU, baby. **

**--**

**Down With The Sickness**

**"I can see inside you, the sickness is rising. Don't try to deny what you feel. (Will you give into me?)"**

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"He's stable for the most part, but it's going to be awhile before he can fully use his right arm again. . ."

"The injury was serious, I take it?"

"Very, Severus. He may never fully recover."

Severus shook his head, disbelieving. "He has to. He's Harry Potter. The wizarding world cannot depend upon a criple."

"This is far more serious than a simple matter of Harry's destiny, Severus. The boy was close to death when we found him, and it doesn't appear that he's out of the woods yet." said Dumbledore, watching Severus intently. "However, I wanted to discuss something else with you besides the boy's injury. I wanted to discuss how he got it, and what drove him to get himself injured."

"You make it sound as if he self-mutilated," said Severus in a contemptous voice. "According to Weasley and Granger, Harry had become irrational when Granger attempted to bring you the diary. He stopped her, and then his body changed into the Dark Lord's. I as well as you want to know what happened there."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. That's the matter in itself that worries me. Apparently, he was shocked and horrified by his own reflection and plumeted his fists through it. It seems, Severus, that Voldemort is finding an easier way to torture Harry other than through the Cruciatius or heavy threats - he's taking over the boy's mind.."

"Just like you suspected," said Severus slowly. "The Dark Lord is trying to bring him over to the dark side."

"I believe, in the end, that is his true intention. You see, he knows now that Harry has the capability of being... dark. He's using this to his advantage, trying to turn Harry against the people who love and care for him most, and in turn, make him his own worst enemy." Dumbledore explained through a heavy sigh.

He moved to the other side of his desk and sat down in his large chair, rubbing his temples. "We should have never let it get this far..."

"No," agreed Severus, inclining his head, "but Albus, there's something that you're not telling me. You know all about this connection between the two of them, when no one, not even Harry or the Dark Lord himself knows, and I want to know how. How do you understand this unique connection when no one can figure it out?"

"Severus, I -"

"You know something," Severus turned to face him, eyebrows creased, watching Albus closely. "You know there's more to this connection than a transfer of powers, don't you?"

Dumbledore sighed deeply again as he moved his hands over his face. "Yes.."

Severus's eyebrows narrowed further as he watched the older man. "What do you know? What more is it to this connection?"

"I cannot be absolutely sure, Severus. I won't know for a long while. However, I can tell you why I cannot tell Harry. Because, if indeed I am right, he will be unable to bear the news. You know of the one thing that also I cannot bear to tell Harry; It would be too much for him, if I gave him false hope and then turned around and lied to him."

"But that's what you planned on doing anyway, correct?" said Severus in disgust. "I know you plan to keep the prophecy from him, but the other such news, if it involves the mind-connection between them, he must know. He must know this. He must know everything, _everything_, Albus, if we truly expect him to succeed."

"I cannot tell him that he must die!" snapped Dumbledore.

Severus's eyes widened. "What do you mean '_he must die'_? I thought... all these years..."

And then he found himself quite unable to speak, and ran a hand through his greasy hair, as it all hit him at once, a train just finishing the longest track. "He...the Dark Lord... immortality.. yes, I see now..._ horcruxes_, no other... Harry..."

He looked up into Dumbledore's face, and saw that it was wet with tears. "The Dark Lord made Horcruxes, didn't he..?" His voice was soft, shocked; He shoulfd have realized this sooner...

Dumbledore wiped his eyes and nodded. "Seven, excluding the bit in his body You were always a smart man, Severus..."

"And when were you planning on telling Harry this..?" Severus forced himself to speak calmly, though his insides had turned to flame, leaping on his flesh, threatening to overspill and engulf everything inside of him. "And Harry... is he a Horcrux..?"

Dumbledore stood with his back to him. "I plan on telling Harry everything.. next year...I cannot bear to tell him now... he does not even know the contents of the prophecy yet...I will tell him.. when the time is right... I cannot tell Harry however that _HE_ himself is a Horcrux.. not until the last moment... because then he wouldn't have the stregnth to do what must be done.."

"It seems the past five years have taught you nothing, Dumbledore!" snapped Severus. "Of course the boy will do what must be done! Don't you know him? He will not give up until Voldemort has been destroyed! He'll fight to the end, even if it may be _his_ end! Don't you think he's accepted that he might die? Don't you think he knows deep down that he really has no chance, even though he puts on his facade every day just to please other people? We never see the real him. He never lets us, because of what people expect of him! He's got to pretend to be someone else, when deep inside, he's like everyone else, like anyone else would be! He's scared, Albus, and don't forget it! He cannot pretend not to be. But he will go to his death, because although he may be scared, he's brave, and he's strong. He knows his time was supposed to be when he was just a one-year-old child, and he knows that he won't live as long as Voldemort continues to hunt him! Don't you think it's passed his mind that he has no real chance, that he's fighting a losing battle? You, you sit here and say Harry must not know the truth because he won't be able to complete what ever task you appoint him, because it will end in his death? Not only have you been lying to me, you've been lying to him, and you need to stop it right now! You need to tell him the prophecy, and that he must die! You know you've got to Albus!"

There was a complete stillness for a moment, a long silence that was only just a moment, but long enough to be an eternity. Albus did not speak, but his hands gripped the edges of his desk, and he was gasping slightly. Severus felt his heart pounding feriociously like the anger inside him in his eardrums, and waited for the man to speak.

"You're right, Severus."

Severus did not speak. Albus finally turned, and there were rapid streaks of tears falling down his old wrinkled face. "I never wanted it to get this far..."

"Neither did I, Albus, but we knew what kind of person we had on our hands for the past 14 years. He does not deserve this, and he does not deserve to be told that he must die at such a young age, and I know you feel guilty to be the one to tell him, but it must be done; I overheard the prophecy, and got his parents killed, so when you tell him, I will be willing to bear his hate. He already hates me, because of his father."

"And you know the one thing that would destroy that hatred, Severus."

Severus's nostrils flared. "No. I will not tell him that. No one must know."

"I thought you wanted him to know everything, Severus? Don't you think the fact that someone loves his mother other than him would ease him? He knows so little about her, Severus. He is a child with no knowledge of his mother. He's got Sirius and Remus to tell him about James, but who to tell him about Lily? Petunia hates her, and she hates Harry just the same, so she would not even speak Lily's name in the house. You are the only one who can tell him about his mother. He at least deserves to die knowing about his mother."

Severus sighed. Of course, he knew this was the truth, but he had never planned on telling Harry this. Sure, he had begun to care a lot more for the boy, but he never planned on letting it grow to... love. He still hated the boy, and how can you love and hate someone at the same time? You either loved them or hated them; There was no in-between. "What do we do to stop the Dark Lord from taking over the boy's mind? Granger and Weasley believe the diary is responsible."

Dumbledore quirked his eyes at the abrupt change of subject, but elaborated. "Yes, I believe so too. As for what we do, the diary must be taken from Harry before we can get Voldemort out of his mind; But you saw the effects - it seems removing the diary triggers physical injuries to him. It's like he's dependant on the diary..as if his soul is inside it, and you know why now, Severus. The horcrux inside him has become connected to Voldemort. Voldemort knows. Why do you think he has not sought to physically harm or kill Harry the past few weeks?"

Severus's insides plummeted. "He knows..?"

"Yes, I believe so. Therefore, we must keep Harry as far away from him as possible, should he attempt to remove the Horcrux. Only then can Harry die."

"But wouldn't removing the Horcrux kill the boy..?" Asked Severus, his mouth dry. "Isn't that the whole point of what you were telling me? He's got to die, but because he is a Horcrux. How would he be rid of it if he's already dead?"

"I do not know. I have never created a Horcrux. But Voldemort might know of a way to remove the Horcrux in Harry another way other than killing him. But for now, he cannot kill Harry."

"Until he gets the soul inside him out.." said Severus quietly. "How long we have until then, I don't know..."

-

_Harry..._

_There were flames all around him. He felt as if it itself was burning him, the flame burning his skin. Sweat poured down his pale forehead, and his scar seared and burned. He lay in a circle of fire, trapped, and there was Voldemort, watching him, the smallest hint of that erotic look back in his eye. _

_"Give into me, Harry..." _

_The serpentine's skeletal-like hands wrapped around his wasit, dragging him, pulling him torwards the flames. "Give into me. Give into death, now, Harry. Come with me, as we both die. Even in death, our love penetrates all.."_

_He screamed as the flames tore his skin, burned him to ash, and awoke. _

There were no flames, no Voldemort; He was safe.

Immediately, he realized he was in the hospital wing again. Sitting up in his bed, he rubbed his eyes with his left hand, realizing that his right felt extremely heavy and hurt terribly. Once he cleaned his eyes of all sleepers, he looked down at it, and saw that it was wrapped in many bandages, and a sling encased it. He groaned. What had happened? He couldn't remember a thing. Straining in the quiet, he tried to remember; He could recall Voldemort talking to him, grabbing him, and then Ron and Hermione, but nothing else came. He could not remember going upstairs to bed with them, or anything after. He was getting more and more frustrated by the minute, and he wanted answers. Where the hell was everybody?

As if to answer his question, the hospital wing door opened, and in walked Albus Dumbledore. He was frowing, and he took the most hesitant of steps, as if he were afraid of walking toward Harry, and stood in the doorway. But when he spoke, his voice was gentle. "Hello, Harry."

"Hi, Professor," said Harry in a voice he felt was somewhat unlike his own; Well, it didn't help matters when Dumbledore was staying clear of him again, as if he had the fucking plague!

"How are you feeling?" Asked Dumbledore, and he remained where he was, his hands folded, and they shook a bit. The older lowered his head, as if even further afraid to look into Harry's eyes. Harry resisted the urge to jump up and tackle him.

"Fine, sir."

Again, he heard the anger in his own voice, and by the look Dumbledore shifted under, he realized he was glaring; He immediately softened his gaze. Why did he feel so angry?

"Well, Harry, I'm sure what happened has developed many questions in your mind." said Dumbledore slowly, still not looking up at him.

"I can't remember what happened," said Harry bluntly, annoyed that Dumbledore still refused to look at him. "I was hoping someone could tell me.."

Dumbledore finally looked up, but his expression was furthest from the one that Harry would have prefered seeing. His face was cold. "I'm sure you remember very well, _Tom_."

Harry's blinked rapidly. _Tom_? He was not _Tom_! "Professor..? I'm not - "

"Harry, this isn't you. He's inside of you. He's in your mind, like a snake ready to strike. Don't give into him, Harry. You're stronger than that!"

Harry gave a bitter laugh. "If you love to illusion yourself." His eyes widened. That wasn't what he had planned to say. His heart began to pound rapidly. He felt dirty, possessed; Was Voldemort inside of him? Was Dumbledore right? "_He's.. he's in me..._?"

"Yes, Harry. Fight him. You can beat him!" Dumbledore said roughly, and he took a step towards Harry, and placed a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry was suddenly overcome with a rage he had never felt before, and wrenched the old man's hand off his shoulder. "STOP PRETENDING LIKE YOU FUCKING CARE ABOUT ME!"

Dumbledore's face immediately paled. "Harry..."

"NO!" Harry found himself standing, though he could not remember getting up; He could not even feel the pain in his arm anymore. "NO! YOU'RE LYING TO ME, LIKE YOU ALWAYS HAVE! I CAN'T DEPEND ON YOU! YOU JUST CARE ABOUT MY DAMNED SCAR AND MY STUPID DESTINY! WHO CARES?! MAYBE I DON'T WANT TO FIGHT ANYMORE! MAYBE I WANT TO BE NORMAL AND LIVE JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE! NO ONE REALLY GIVES A DAMN ABOUT ME! I'M TIRED OF BEING LIED TO! BY YOU, BY SNAPE, BY SIRIUS -!"

_"That's enough, Harry!"_

Dumbledore seized his wrist roughly, and Harry stopped immediately. "Don't you _dare_ suggest that I don't care about you!"

Harry ripped himself from the old man's grip. "YOU DON'T! STOP LYING TO ME! YOU DON'T EVEN FUCKING LOOK AT ME ANYMORE! AM I SUPPOSED TO COME TO YOU WHEN YOU DON'T EVEN CARE?!"

"Language, Harry!"

"I DON'T CARE!" Harry snapped, and he tossed over the beside table in anger, yelling so loudly and hard he thought he might tear his throat. "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU ALL! YOU, SNAPE, EVERYONE!"

"You don't mean that, Harry! It's not you talking!"

"Oh, but isn't it?" Harry barked into the elder's face. "_Isn't it_? Isn't it ever really me? I'm tired of hiding my emotions all the time because people are too busy to listen, or to care! All you care about is my damned scar of if I have a vision! _THEN_ you'll listen! You never listen to how I feel about Snape and how he hates me and now he suddenly acts like he cares about me! And my friends - ha! They're too busy lusting over eachother to really give a damn about me and how I feel -!"

"Your friends care about you more than words can say, Harry! Do not be so arrogant as to deny that!"

Harry seethed; He was sounding like Snape. "_I'm not arrogant! YOU are_!"

There was a lingering silence for a moment, and Dumbledore placed his hands to his face, sheilding it; Harry did not relent. He hoped Dumbledore felt the pain he was forced to for most of this term. "Leave me alone.." He looked down to the floor, not meeting Dumbledore's eyes.

There was no response for a moment, then: "As you wish, Harry. But you should know that you're not alone. You never have, never will.."

"Spare me the freindship speech," spat Harry. His fists were shaking, and he felt the incredible urge to break something. "I've heard it enough."

Dumbledore sighed and stood, and when Harry did not turn around to look at him, procceeded out the door. Harry listened to it shut, and once he could not hear Dumbledore's footsteps anymore, he slid to the floor, embracing his knees, and began to cry.

He felt so alone, and so betrayed. But most of all he felt so unloved. He just wish someone actually cared about him, and not about the stupid scar that seemed to evolve his existance. Did his life not matter, his feelings? His heart?

Sniffling, Harry got up and began to lift the table he had knocked over back upright. He didn't notice until the table was back up that the diary was lying on the floor. He silently bent down to get it, and as he moved back to his bed, set it upon his lap. If there was a time to get his feelings out, it was now. He found his pen lying on the sheets and began to scrible on an open page, writing furiously. He knew now why he felt refuge in the book; It was because the diary did not seclude him, or lie to him, and could not make him feel as though love were a foreign word he'd never heard of. He felt something he'd never felt when talking to a person about his feelings - they could not understand. The diary could.

_I hate Dumbledore. I hate Snape. I hate everyone. Dumbledore claims to care about me, but he refuses to look at me. He refuses to treat me like a human being. He never has cared about me. If he did, would he let me suffer like this? Snape - ha. He cares even less. He hates me. I hate how these people keep living underneath a facade. Is there anyone I can really depend on? Sirius, sometimes I think he just uses me to think I'm his best friend again, and my friends? They care too much about getting in the other's pants than about what I'm feeling. They want to ignore me? Fuck them. Fuck everyone. Everyone wants me to be their 'Golden Boy'? Screw them. They can handle everything themselves. Let's see how far they get without me. I want them to suffer like they have made me. I wish they would all feel pain like I have every waking moment of my life, until they wished they were dead. I want them to feel.. pain._

Then he slammed the book so hard it emanted a loud echo on the castle walls. He continued to breathe heavily, and fell back against his bed. He sat there in silence, and after awhile, he began to feel slightly cleansed. Anger was still his only company. He reached down from the bed and grabbed his trainers; His mind was made up. He was leaving. They could do without his help for awhile. They deserved that much. He got up and walked towards the door, when he stopped. He couldn't just leave the diary. Turning back and seizing it, he opened the double-doors of the hospital wing, and did not stop as he passed the many students, the teachers, all of who depended on him; Once he reached outside, and prowled through the school grounds, he noticed Ginny, and Ron and Hermione, who ran to him, but he was too far away for them to catch up. He broke into a run. They called his name repeatedly, but still he did not stop. He ran until he could no longer hear their voices, and stopped to catch his breath. He only just now realized where he was. The Forbidden Forest.

It wasn't even a minute later when a cold voice whispered, "Why do you run from them? Can't you hear them calling you?"

Harry turned to face Voldemort, who was watching him with a frown, leaning against the trunk of a tree, and felt no fear. He glanced through the corner of his eye in the direction he had just left, and made a decision. Clearing his throat, he looked the Dark Lord in the eye. "I need to talk to you..."

Voldemort, though looking mildly surprised, slowly nodded. "Follow me, then, Harry."

He turned and walked away. Harry, after a second's hesitance, followed him.

Somehow, he knew Voldemort would listen. He had known it from the start.

--

Ohh, now things are going to get interesting. Yay for angry! Harry. Until tomorrow -

Tainted Visions.


	9. Giving In

**In Sleep He Sang To Me**

**Summary: When a stressful fifth year at Hogwarts arises, Harry Potter uses the old diary of his nemesis to relieve some of the stress. What he doesn't know is that the mind connection between himself and Voldemort grows ever stronger, and a curse has been placed upon the diary to fufil the writer's thoughts, and allow only bad things to happen.**

**------**

**"I'm giving in to you. Take me under. I'm giving into you. I'm dying tonight. I'm giving into you. Watch me crumble; I'm giving into you." **

**- Giving In, Adema**

**Chapter 9: Giving In**

**-**

Harry and Voldemort stumbled through the forest in a long silence, Harry not quite knowing how to start a conversation with the other man, and it appeared Voldemort didn't either. Almost several times, Harry lagged behind, and strained to keep up with Voldemort. Suddenly, however, Voldemort stopped, and Harry walked into him, almost knocking the Dark Lord over. Voldemort looked at him with surprised eyes, and Harry fumbled on his feet while fighting off dizziness, and replied, "S-sorry.."

He didn't quite know why he was apologizing to the Dark Lord. He didn't even know why he was following him. It took him a moment to realize that they were standing in front of a blockage of large trees, where it appeared only the darkest dwelled. Harry inwardly shivered.

Voldemort gave him a curt nod, and walked forward, motioning for Harry to follow him. Harry obeyed, and together they passed through the enourmous trees, Harry often cutting his face on the sharp bits of twig sticking out. He gazed for a moment at Voldemort, who appeared to have suffered no injuries whatsoever. Once they had escaped into the clearing, Harry winced and rubbed his now scraped face. Voldemort turned, and shook his head.

"I've passed through this so many times, I've become almost immune to it. In the beginning, back when you first started your first year at Hogwarts, when I was living in the forest, it bothered me. But since then, it hasn't.."

Harry shuddered, against his will; He had remembered encountering Voldemort for the first time in the forest, and he was sure Voldemort remembered it just as clearly. Almost as if an answer to this, Voldemort turned away again. "Come, Harry. We're here."

Harry looked up to see that he was right.

A small cabin stood in front of them, a single door and two windows, or at least it appeared from the front. There were leaves strewn all among the small lawn, gravel surrounding the grass. Voldemort moved up the few stairs and opened the door, leaving it open for Harry.

A little hesitant, Harry stepped inside. Behind him, the door closed, and he looked up to see Voldemort at his side. "Drink, Harry? Pumpkin juice? Water?"

Shocked, Harry gawked at him. Voldemort was offering him a drink?!

Voldemort seemed to sense Harry's shock, because his frown twisted into a smirk. "Really, now, Harry. I offer even the most hated of enemies drinks. Morals are very important."

Harry was almost tempted to contradict the older man, but instead he cleared his throat, and said. "Er, Pumpkin juice is fine, thanks."

Again, he was being civilized with the man who had murdered his parents. What was wrong with him? Why was he standing here, inside a house with his immortal enemy, with no hatred? Why was he standing here, feeling almost.. safe.. with a man who was anything but safe? Why did he almost feel like he belonged here..?

Voldemort gave him a nod. "You can sit down over there. I'll get the drinks."

And he walked into the other room, leaving Harry alone. Harry's legs shook as he sat down on the couch. Why was it so weird for him to be sitting in what he assumed was Voldemort's house? He knew he shouldn't have come here, yet he could not bring himself to leave. He seemed to have been deprieved of all courage, but there was no fear, either, which shocked him more; Shouldn't he be afraid of Voldemort?

Before he could reflect more on this, Voldemort was back, and handed him the glass of Pumpkin Juice. Harry looked at it, a little unsure if he should drink it; What if Voldemort had poisioned it?

Voldemort seemed to sense what he was thinking, because he snorted into his own drink, which was also Pumpkin Juice. "Harry, you should have learned by now that I seek to kill you by hand, or wand, rather, not by poision. That would be an extremely pathetic excuse for a murder attempt, much like those muggles do. Pathetic. Do you hear of that a lot, since you live with muggle relatives?"

"Uh... well, sometimes. Most of what you hear of from murders is stabbings..." Harry answered, somewhat awkwardly.

Voldemort just nodded and took a sip from his drink. Harry remembered his, and took a small sip. It was good. He took another, and lowered the glass again.

"What are those muggles like, anyway?" Asked Voldemort quite suddenly, and Harry looked up.

"Er, well, they're mean." said Harry, feeling uncomfortable at the subject. "But I only see them every summer..."

"Do they.. hit you?" Voldemort asked.

Harry looked at the floor. "Yes.."

"Mmm." Voldemort took another sip of his drink. There was silence for about two minutes, when he spoke again. "What did you wish to speak to me about, Harry?"

"Oh." Harry had almost forgotten; "I, er.. it's about..."

"Do you often not look at people when speaking to them?" Asked Voldemort, a little sharply.

Harry jerked, and looked up. "S-Sorry!"

He didn't know why he was apologizing, either. His heart was pounding in his eardrums, and he felt sure he was going to be hit. He raised a hand over his head, shaking, and waited; Nothing.

"Potter, what the _hell_ are you doing?" Came Voldemort's voice, and Harry realized that the elder man had stood; He could hear his feet against the padded floor.

Unremoving his arm, Harry spoke shakily. "S-Sorry, sir. I mean..." He shook his head to clear it. "I.. I just thought.."

Voldemort didn't reply, but instead, he took the seat next to Harry, and Harry felt a shudder run down his spine, as if he had been doused in ice-water. "Again, you appear to mistake the obvious; I do not hit people. I torture them. But for you, right now, neither is going to happen."

Harry unrelaxed his tense muscles, and almost welcomed it when one of Voldemort's skeletal hands set itself on his shoulder. "Your uncle.. he must pay, Harry.. " He ran the arm down Harry's forearm. "But right now, I feel there are other's. What do you wish to tell me..?"

Harry swallowed saliva in nervousness, and tugged at his sleeve. "It's.. Dumbledore.." Remembering what Voldemort said, he looked up and glanced the older man in the eye. "I.. he's... he doesn't understand me..."

"He's been like that for years," growled Voldemort, but then he gaze Harry's arm a gentle squeeze. "Go on, Harry."

"He.. he keeps ignoring me! He says you're tricking me, possessing me, and the diary is evil! What does he expect me to do? No one else listens to me, I have to let my feelings out somehow.. and the book.." He twisted his fingers in his hand. "It's like it listens to me.. I can talk to it without it replying nastily back.."

"Yes, the diary I daresay is like a perfect person; One whom cannot defy what you say or ridicule it; I understand your closeness to it, Harry.." said Voldemort. "As for what Dumbledore says, he's a meddlesome old fool. Do you _think_ I'm possessing you, Harry?"

"No," said Harry shakily as the hand ran up his neck, "He.. he interferes too much.. he doesn't care about me.. just what I have to do..."

"Yes, Harry." The hand massasaged his tense neck muscles, and Harry closed his eyes at the pleasure. "He lies. He's the one tricking you.. He only cares for your so-called destiny. You've never been rid of it; But only you can choose your destiny, your fate, not Dumbledore. Not the Wizarding World. Don't listen to them. They want you to be a hero, Harry. Die trying. Why do that.. when you can give into me.. and let me protect you..?"

Harry's head dropped sleeply. "Yes.."

"I can protect you, Harry. I can save you from the pain.. I can save you from betrayal.. only the strong survive, and you, you are strong. Stay with me, Harry, give yourself to me, and I can protect you.. You know.."

Voldemort's other hand wrapped itself around Harry's waist, and he brought to the boy to him, so that he was leaning on him. He carrasses his face. "You know, Harry..."

Harry closed his eyes, feeling safe in Voldemort's arms. "I know.. I know you can..."

"Good boy.." Voldemort whispered softly, and he lowered his face to Harry's neck, gnawing gently. Harry almost jumped, but Voldemort's other hand slid along his ruffled, untidy hair, and he relaxed. "Very good boy.."

Harry snuggled closer to the Dark Lord, warmth running through his body. "Please don't make me leave.."

Voldemort lifted the boy's chin so that they made eye-contact. "I won't, Harry. You never have to leave again.."

And then, before Harry knew it, Voldemort had leaned on him and kissed him. Harry almost protested against it, but the arms were still around him in a consistant warmth, and he found himself returning the Dark Lord's passion, eyes closing as a single tear ran down his cheek. It felt so real, so welcomed; It was like he had waited for this for ages!

Voldemort pushed the boy roughly down onto vacant parts of the couch, falling on top of him. He tugged at the boy's soft, red lips, nibbling on the bottom one, drawing blood. Harry groaned, and shifted underneath Voldemort's weight. The older Wizard sucked at the blood, and moved his tounge inside to lick at the inner walls of Harry's mouth. The youth gave a slight gasp as it ran down his tounge, but Voldemort continued to possess his mouth, forceful and hard. After a moment, Voldemort broke apart the kiss, dragging Harry's bottom lip back momentarily before letting it go.

"You amaze me in more ways than any wizard before you, Harry Potter. You have become my noctune, and I will never sleep if I'm forced to last a day without you..."

"I can't either.." Harry whispered in a croak. "I don't ever.. want to go back.."

Voldemort smirked. "You need to no more, Harry.."

Harry nodded, and raised his hands to Voldemort's face, grazing it. His tounge was dancing behind his mouth. Voldemort smirked, noticing, and again pushed his tounge into Harry's mouth. Harry returned it, closing his eyes, as Voldemort's hands ran down his lower back. He felt so safe. Then they stopped. Harry re-opened his eyes to see Voldemort growling, struggling to remove his robes. Harry leaned forward and helped him, revealing Voldemort's shirt, and he desperately began to unbutton it. Voldemort gave him a raised eyebrow and grasped Harry's wrist, preventing him from removing it anymore. "Do you realize what you are doing, Harry? Realize all that you're defying, all that you're throwing away?"

Harry did not answer for a moment, but gazed at the man intently. When he found his voice, he whispered, "Yes. Yes, I realize.." He cleared his throat. "But I don't care.. I don't want to have to care anymore.."

This seemed answer enough to Voldemort, for he released Harry's wrist, and began to unbotton his own shirt. He tossed it off, revealing a smooth, clear chest that Harry ran his fingers across, a dazed look in his eyes, almost entranced. Voldemort growled, and pushed Harry harder onto the couch, and Harry was surprised for a moment as the air temporarily left his lungs. Soon after, Voldemort ripped off Hary's shirt, and Harry stopped himself as he felt as if were about to pass out. "Wait, stop."

Voldemort quirked an eyebrow and leaned up off of him. Harry took the oppurtunity to sit up. "I.. I can't do this.. I.."

He didn't understand why he had stopped; He had felt safe in those arms, entranced, almost, so why had he called it off? _Because it's wrong_, Harry reminded himself. _I can't sleep with the enemy... _

He shot up from the couch, and began to pace, wrenching his hair in his hand. "_What am I doing_..?"

Voldemort watched him, something again like that indecsion passing in his eyes. "You know nothing of what you want, Harry. I advise you make up your mind now. You cannot have both.."

Harry turned to look at him, Voldemort's shirt lying in between the coushins, his own in his hand, and decided. This was not what he wanted. He put his shirt back on, hiding his chest.

"I..."

"Go back," said Voldemort sharply, and he stood, wrapping his shirt around his chest. "Go back, Harry. Leave."

Harry felt a pang of guilt, and looked up at the Dark Lord. "I..I'm.."

"Out, Potter!" Voldemort suddenly snapped, and he grabbed Harry by the scruff of his neck and shoved the boy out the door. "Out, now!"

The door was shut even before Harry toppled down the last stair. Groaning, as blood ran down his mouth, he slowly got to his feet. What the hell had just happened? He ran through the clearing, ignoring the renewed grazes across his face as the twigs slashed at it, and did not stop until he reached the edge of the forest, panting. He didn't know why he felt so guilty.

"Harry!"

Harry looked up, startled. Hermione was running towards him. Immediately, he pulled the shirt so that it was covering the nibble on his neck. "Hermione. What are you doing here?"

She wrapped her arms around him. "Oh, Harry! Why did you leave? Dumbledore was so worried about you! He thought you'd run to You-Know-Who!"

Harry almost choked on his own saliva and made an attempt for it to go unnoticed. Unfortunately for him, it didn't.

"Harry!" She looked shocked. "You didn't, did you?"

"No," said Harry immediately, in a calm, controlled voice. "I.. I ran into him, but.."

"He hurt you? Is that what happened to your face?" Hermione shrieked, letting him go. Harry had an almost strange urge to chuckle.

"No, no. We, uh. We got into a fight, but it wasn't physical!"

_No, it wasn't physical, said a voice in his head sarcastically, it was almost damn near sexual! _He beat it away.

She looked relieved. "Well, we'd better head back to the school. Don't you run off like that again, please, Harry, you scared us!"

"Sorry." Harry said, almost guiltily. "I just needed to clear my head, that's all.."

She gave him an understanding look and took his hand. For a moment, he was reminded of that cold, skeletal one slithering beneath his fingers, and took it firmly. He never wanted to go back to Voldemort again.

-

O.M.G.

This chapter.. was.. so.. fun.. to write! XD


	10. Lithium

**In Sleep He Sang To Me**

**Summary: When a stressful fifth year at Hogwarts arises, Harry Potter uses the old diary of his nemesis to relieve some of the stress. What he doesn't know is that the mind connection between himself and Voldemort grows ever stronger, and a curse has been placed upon the diary to fufil the writer's thoughts, and allow only bad things to happen.**

**A/N: So, after that last chapter, now things will really start to fall into place. Most of you might now know what's going to happen. So here I am to answer any questions you guys have! Put them in the reviews, if you want, and each chap, I'll answer:D**

**So the first was:**

**"Isn't giving that potion (veritaserum) to students illegal"? Yes, it sure is. However, since the ministry and Dumbledore aren't on the same page, Dumbledore is going under the ministry's nose and doing things anyway (like stating that Voldemort has returned) by giving Harry something that should be condemned. Of course, we know that Dumbledore is not doing this to hurt Harry, but to help him, but the point is that it's still illegal. Expect something to happen revolving around that:)**

**So keep posting questions! I promise, if it's about the plot, not to give TOO much away, but just an overall review I guess over what ever questions you have. :) **

**Thanks so much! Keep the reviews coming! **

**Right now, onto chappie 10!**

**-**

**"Come to bed don't make me sleep alone. Couldn't hide the emptiness you let it show. Never wanted it to be so cold. Didn't drink enough to say you love me. I can't hold onto me, wonder what's wrong with me.." - Lithium, Evanescence**

**-**

**Chapter 10: Lithium**

Harry had spent the next few days feeling very much confused. It was like an inner war - what do you decide when you both love and hate the person who killed your parents, and who has attempted to kill you any chance he got?

No, Harry shook himself, I don't love him. It's just an attraction, that's all. We don't really love eachother.. it's just something I need to control, to stop, before it gets too far..

But hadn't it already gotten too far? Seeking refuge in Voldemort, going to him when things were bad because it was somehow, easier, was going too far. Finding comfort, and feeling safe in his arms was crossing the line. So what was almost having sex with him called? In too deep, over the edge? Condemning?

Why had he felt such guilt when he resisted Voldemort? Why did he feel that stopping himself was a mistake? Things were getting too far out of hand, out of his control, and he needed to stop; He hadn't realized it until now, but as he sat in front of the warm fire in the common room, as outside a wild breeze shook the Hogwarts grounds, he knew he had been giving more control to Voldemort, being weak, showing weakness, and that could prove dangerous to the man who wanted to dominate him most.

Harry kicked himself mentally. Voldemort had been trying to trick him, he could see that now. The Dark Lord wanted control, control over Harry, and he needed to stop it before he completely lost himself.

_"You amaze me in more ways than any wizard before you, Harry Potter. You have become my noctune, and I will never sleep if I'm forced to last a day without you..."_

_"I can't either.."_

"GAH!"

Harry tugged at his hair in frustration. Part of him felt as if it were a trick, and part of him felt as if the words were true. While it was true that he hadn't slept for days, in a slumber of being awake, no noctune to appease his drowsy eyes, his heart simply let him lie awake at night, Voldemort's words running through his mind in a session of racing thoughts. As much as he tried to push them away, they simply grew, into a dark cloud he carried over him every waking moment of his life. And he had been awake for far too long. Yet, he felt as if these past few weeks he had been in a long, eternal slumber that he now had awaken from. He had been manipulated, too drowsy to protest, too weak to prevent it, and wrapped himself into the arms of the devil himself, the snake of sin slithering in the garden of eden; Why had he given in to the loss of power, the song of weakness? Why had he taken the apple from the tree..?

"Harry?"

Harry came out of stupor to see Hermione standing in front of him, frowning. "Dumbledore wants to speak to you.. and Snape.."

Harry sighed; He knew it wouldn't be long. "Okay, thanks, Hermione."

She gave him a look he meant to mean 'good luck' and smiled slightly, motioning that he would talk to her later before stepping out of the Gryffindor common room. As the door closed behind him, he heard the fat lady give a snort. "Walking around after hours are you?"

"I'm seeing Dumbledore," said Harry, turning to her, slightly annoyed.

She looked affronted. "Oh, Dumbledore. Well, then, it looks like you better go and see Dumbledore!"

She huffed, and Harry, too exasperated to apologize, stalked off towards the Headmaster's office. He felt a little nervous, and slightly afraid, since the last time he had spoken to the Headmaster it had turned into a shouting match with him putting him down? Enourmous guilt overweighed him, and his knocks were small and nervous as he knocked on Dumbledore's door. However, the cheeful voice called "Come in!" and he opened the door, staring at the floor, too ashamed to look Dumbledore in the face.

"Ah, Harry. Please come in."

Harry walked forward through shaking legs and shut the door. He looked up finally to see Snape standing beside Dumbledore's desk, arms cross, watching Harry with that look of concern again. Immediately, he thought back on what Voldemort had told him - they were lies. The look, the appearance was a facade; _They lie, Harry_. _Don't listen to them. They want you to be a hero, Harry. Die trying. Why do that.. when you can give into me.. and let me protect you..?_

Again, he found himself hearing Voldemort's voice in the back of his head, like a warning, and shook his head; He would not be decieved again. He gave Dumbledore a small, hesitant smile, which the elder man quickly returned, much more brightly and true, as Harry took the seat opposite to his, which Dumbledore was inclining. Harry, poking at his right sleeve, looked up and glanced at Snape, who immediately looked away; Harry did the same, and instead chose to stare at a random part of the carpet.

"Well, Harry. It's been a few days since we've spoken. I'm sure you remember that quite clearly."

"Yes, sir." said Harry shamefully, and he continued to tug. "About that.. I'm.. I'm so sorry, sir.. I mean.. I didn't mean - "

"It's quite all right, Harry," said Dumbledore, and his voice was heavy and sad. Harry looked up and noticed for the first time that Dumbledore looked every bit an old man, sad eyes and tired face, wrinkles running down his cheeks, long hair dropped back, beard pulled together in a bun. "I know you just needed to let out some frustration. Why should you confide in me, when I have chosen not too look or speak to you for months? I deserve your hatred."

"I don't hate you." said Harry quickly. How could he? "I can't hate you. I don't. I was being stupid. I chose a stupid choice - "

He stopped himself, quickly grasping the concept on what he could have said, and looked back to the floor, seeking to rearrange his words. "I shouldn't have taken my anger or frustration out at you, sir.."

"Thank you, Harry, but this old man feels he very much deserved to be lashed out at. It's my mistake for not telling you from the start that I assumed Voldemort was overtaking your mind. I should have trusted you enough to tell you the truth. Which is why I've called you here tonight."

Harry looked up, wearily. Finally, the truth...

"I'm sure, by witness claims by Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley, that Voldemort has been seeking to question you, hasn't he, Harry?"

Harry stiffened at the mention of the name, and he wasn't the only one; Snape jumped and glared at the Headmaster, going unnoticed, and Harry had a stranger urge to laugh. Snape caught his eye, and Harry briefly wondered if the man cared about him. Did Snape truly care for him, for his well-being, his life, and not of the vendetta that existed between him and Harry's father? Did Snape care for who he really was, Harry, and not for the man he reminded him of, James? "Yes," Harry answered after a moment. "On a few occassions."

"I thought so," said Dumbledore, nodding. "I assumed Voldemort would try and gain your trust, Harry, and I'm sure he's told you many things that he deems truthly, but they are in fact lies. I'm sure he's tried to say he can help you, but he cannot. He lies, Harry, and I hope you see that."

Harry was so shocked by how much Dumbledore seemed to know, he almost stuttered. "Yes.. yes, I know.. he.." He cleared his throat to maintain his cover, "I know he lies."

Dumbledore watched him carefully, hard, and Harry almost shifted underneath his gaze, but after a moment, the cold face softened. "Very well, Harry. Now, onto what I was telling you.. and believe me, it's not easy to say this, Harry..."

Harry waited, but Dumbledore seemed to have become at a loss for words, so he urged him. "What? What is it, sir? Please tell me."

He looked at Harry and sighed, looking away to look at Snape, who nodded. So Snape knew of this, too? Dumbledore cleared his throat, and looked away from the both of them, staring at his desk. "What you heard, before term started, about Voldemort having a weapon.. a weapon that he has never had was true, Harry. This weapon, known as a prophecy, is a document listing things that are foretelled to happen, or predicted. Like what Professor Trewalney does in your Divination Class," he stopped, and Harry nodded. "However, this document, or prophecy, lists the fate of not only yourself, but Lord Voldemort as well."

"A prophecy was made about Voldemort and me..? Asked Harry, a little breathless. "What.. what does it say..?"

"Headmaster."

Harry looked at Snape, who was watching him closely. "I'd like to intervene here."

"Very well, Severus. You may tell him." Dumbledore announced, looking a little relieved that he was ridden of the burden.

Snape sighed, and came around the desk, closer to Harry, and kneeled in front of him. Harry had an incredible urge to run without knowing why, but looked his most hated professor in the eye. "Potter - Harry - I don't quite know how to go about this, much like Albus, but.. the prophecy he speaks of was made before your birth. It foretelled the birth of a boy, born at the end of the seventh month, born to parents who had three times defied the Dark Lord, and would be marked as the Dark Lord's equal, with powers he knows not." He sighed. "That was you."

Harry was at a loss for words, but nodded, a great lump in his throat. Snape continued.

"The last part of the prophecy -"

"Severus, perhaps I should intervene here?" Asked Dumbledore suddenly, and he now too stood. Severus gave a curt nod and stood. Harry watched the elder man instead. "What Severus just mentioned is true. It came to pass, Harry. But like Severus said, there is a second half of the prophecy, which I will inform you of, since Severus does not know it." He sighed, and turned away, and for a moment, Harry thought he had been reduced to tears, but when the older man turned, he was holding something in his hands, the pensive, Harry realized with a jolt, and placed his wand to the tip of his head and pulled out a memory, which he hovered over the pensieve before lowering it inside, in a whirling mass of a pool. Immediately, a woman, one he recognized in an instant to be Professor Trewalney, began to speak in the same voice he had heard just two years ago, harsh and cold.

_"And the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal, but he will have powers the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."_

Even after it was completed, with the illusion fading away, Harry's soul remained hollow. He sat there in a long silence, his breathing coming is rasping breaths as he struggled to comprehend the words; Neither can live? Either must die at the hand of the other..?

"I knew telling you this would not be easy, Harry.." said Dumbledore quietly, and Harry looked up, opening his mouth stupidly, and closed it again. What was he supposed to say? Thank you?

He forced himself to speak. "No, sir. I know.. I just.. what did that mean..?" He looked up and sought out both Snape's and Dumbledore's faces, desperate for one to speak. Snape and Dumbledore exchanged looks, and Snape cleared his throat.

"It means.. one of you, either you or the Dark Lord, must kill eachother in the end. Neither of you can actually live while the other still exists. One must kill the other.."

Harry gulped as a powerful wave of emotion washed over him. "And.. why didn't anyone ever tell me..?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, I planned to. I was just waiting until you were older.."

"Well, I'm old enough now, aren't I?" said Harry, almost desperately. "Is this why you refused to look at me? Because you knew this..?"

"I was afraid... afraid to give you a burden I knew would too difficult to bear. You know now there is no turning away from fate. You realize now that you and Voldemort can no longer pretend this is some game that you can skim along."

"It never has been!" said Harry feircely, getting to his feet. "He killed my parents! That alone made this a war! Each time we meet is a battle neither of us can afford to lose! Ever since I was eleven, somehow I've known that there was a reason he's sought to kill me all of this time! Why didn't you tell me then? I could have stopped - " He stopped himself, now, realizing what he had been so close to saying. Dumbledore gave him a stern look, and Snape looked shocked; Harry shook his head. "I.. I just mean.. I could have stopped him from killing.. Cedric.."

He turned away from both men, running a hand through his hair. The truth was, he still felt guilt and hatred at the being that was Lord Voldemort, however much he tried to hide it. He was bound to hate the man, and there was no other choice. Not anymore. He could no longer let his feelings override that hatred, this destiny he's been forced to bear. It wasn't the fact of knowing all along that one must kill the other; It was the choices he had made the last few weeks, the brief change in reality, the running to the enemy who was honour-bound to kill him that disturbed him. He should have stopped it, should have controlled his urge for someone to hear him, to listen to him, if it meant turning to the enemy. He should have never let it get this far. He never felt as guilty as he did now.

Tears were welling in his eyes, and they fell gracefully down his face. Soon, he could not control them, and they poured down his face like waterfalls, warm and blistering. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and let it comfort him, as he fell to the floor with renewed sobs. The hand trailed with him, which meant the person must have sat down with him. He sniffled, and wiped his face, turing his head to see Dumbledore's crooked nose near his head. The old man had an expression on his face he had never seen before; It was miserable and depressed, tears running down the old wrinkled cheeks. "I'm sorry, Harry. I am so sorry."

Harry nodded, unable to speak, his throat too contstricted. He heard footsteps, and looked up to see Snape kneeling in front of him, watching him with that same concerned expression. The man stretched out a hand, hesitant, it seemed, and placed it on Harry's other shoulder. It was again warm and gentle, very much like when he had supported Harry into the castle. Harry sniffled again and smiled, trying to show Snape the gratitude he had since that day in the courtyard. Snape gave a nod, and held Harry's shaking shoulder as Harry slowly calmed himself.

They sat there in silence for he didn't know how long, but when Harry finally had regained his composure, the hands withdrew.

"You had better be getting to bed, Harry. It's very late."

Harry nodded and stood on wobbly legs, cramped from sitting for so long. He looked over at Dumbledore, and tried to say something, but nothing would come. Dumbledore just smiled slightly at him, and led him to the door. "We can speak again, tomorrow, Harry. Right now, you look as if you're about to drop off your feet."

Harry gave a small smile, and turned the knob, and headed out the door. He looked back for a moment, and gave Snape what he hoped was a thankful smile. Snape nodded to show he understood, and for the first time in Harry's life, smiled at him. Harry wiped the last tear off his face as he finally turned away and headed back to the common room, feeling that burden of guilt lift as he did.

-

Wow, long chap! Hope you enjoyed this, although there wasn't any Voldemort. There will be next chapter:)

Tainted Visions


	11. Whispers In The Dark

**In Sleep He Sang To Me**

**Summary: When a stressful fifth year at Hogwarts arises, Harry Potter uses the old diary of his nemesis to relieve some of the stress. What he doesn't know is that the mind connection between himself and Voldemort grows ever stronger, and a curse has been placed upon the diary to fufil the writer's thoughts, and allow only bad things to happen.**

**A/N: Just wanted to thank everyone for the reviews! You have no idea how much it means to me! You all rock! **

**Okay, so I wanted to give you all a little treat: I'm planning on writing 27 chapters. I have all of the song titles thought out appropriately, so it's all in the works. It's just writing the chapters I have to do. I know my plots, so don't expect hardly any writer's block. If there's a sudden lapse in updates, it's school, or the weather that stops me from coming online that will stall updating. Otherwise, I have every intention of finishing this story. This is actually the first story with chapters over the range of twenty that I've written, so the fact that I'm now working on an eleventh chapter is really a success for me. I'm so glad a lot of people like it. It means a lot:D So, I wanted to say thanks! **

**So, here I present you with a Voldemort-filled chapter!**

**- **

**"You'll never be alone. When darkness comes, I'll light the night with stars. Hear the whispers in the dark. No, you'll never be alone. When darkness comes, you know I'm never far. Hear the whispers in the dark." - Whispers In The Dark, Skillet**

-

**Chapter Eleven: Whispers In The Dark**

Voldemort paced the cabin, almost predator-like. It had been five days since Harry had left, and he hadn't so much as seen the boy since then. Of course, he knew it was better that way; He could not derail his motives on some mutal attraction he had suddenly gained for a fifteen-year-old boy, much less his enemy. But that was the complication - he was more than just any fifteen-year-old boy. He was Harry Potter.

What was supposed to be rivalry and vendetta filled with intense hatred and pain had become a fatal attraction, an attraction he could not divulge or explain. He was sure Harry could not give an answer for this sudden change, either, and wondered temporarily if both of them had been spiked with a love potion, but he knew it was a incredulous suggestion; He hadn't left this place for a good two months, save for the visits to Hogwarts and the meetings with his Death Eaters to observe progress, but he hadn't so much as instigated an attack in that period of time. There was no way he could have been spiked.

He felt sure Harry had not spiked him, either; The boy seemed more troubled about their sudden relationship than he did. It only seemed to make it even more personal, and he knew the boy was feeling immense guilt about what had almost came to pass. He, himself, was feeling aggravated at his own feelings, and for the past few days with no sign of Potter, he simply dwelled on that night, and what it had gained for him. The truth was, nothing. He had gained nothing from the near-sex episode that he and Harry had. Of course, he had lost Harry's trust, and that had been a blow, but still.. he had gained nothing that was completely worthwhile or accomplished anything. He only had drifted the water further from the boat. But perhaps, he pondered, that was a good thing; This spell, attraction, lustive relationship, whatever it was, could not halt him from the task he had set upon himself for the last sixteen years - killing Harry. He hated the boy, and Harry hated him, so where had this sudden lust come from?

He illusioned himself with the thought that perhaps his return had been more effective on both of them than he realized; He knew Harry was in a weak, emotional state, having to watch a companion die just last June, a execution he himself had conspired, and forced to bear ridicule and slander from the whole Wizarding World, which was, again, his whole conspiracy, to make the boy feel alone and secluded, isolated, but it left Harry running to him for help, and left him drawn to the boy other than dismantling him, so was this whole thing for the better or for the worst? He himself was being isolated, but only because the Wizarding World could not know of his return, or atleast not yet. The more time he had in secretive operation was the most effective for him. But the isolation, and perhaps the pain, at being alone had a deeper effect on him than he first thought, and maybe that led to this sudden fatal attraction for Harry?

Well, there was only one other alternative, then - He had to get answers out of Harry, so that he could move out into the open, go back to the regular routine and tasks. He had to kill Harry, and this weak little illusion would not get in the way of that. No, he would not let it.

He stopped with one foot in front of the other, mind whirling. He knew the boy still had the diary, so getting into Hogwarts was a simple task indeed. But what had the boy been told by Dumbledore? What had the meddling old fool convinced the boy of, to turn him against him again? Why did he feel he was obligated to have Harry's trust?

His red eyes shined with frustration and anger.

Maybe the illusion he had placed upon himself was real indeed.

-

Harry awoke from a light sleep, eyes heavy with tiredness. It was still night, he must've only gone to bed a few hours ago, but something, a gut instinct had caused him to awaken. Looking around, he tried to find the source, but found nothing in the mist of darkness but his own thoughts, his own misguided fears and worries that stood with him tonight.

He yawned, and was about to lie back down to try and get back to sleep, when several things happened to startle him awake.

There was a loud scream that made Harry shoot up in his bed and hit his head on the nightstand; A crow squaked somewhere outside his window and took off in a panicked flight; There were shouts and hysterical cries, and Harry shot out of his bed, eyes wide and wand drawn; The students lying asleep in the room with him awoke, all looking around with Harry to figure out what was going on; All scrambled down to the common room when the portrait hole opened, revealing a white-toned Hermione, who was shaking slightly. Harry stopped on the last few stairs, panic coursing through his chest.

"Hermione. Hermione, what's happened?" He asked.

There were murmurs of drowsed agreement, and she looked at Harry with such fear in her eyes that he shuddered. "D-Death Eaters!"

No sooner had she said then did a loud blast erupt from the stairwells, and Harry instinctively dodged forward and seized the head of a small first year girl down, as he too fell to the ground; The spell shot over his head and took out a chunck of the wall. The girl whimpered in fright and thanks, and Harry got up quickly to attend to the other students. Hermione had run forward to get away from the portrait hole as Neville and Dean Thomas sought to close it.

Something caught Harry's eye on the table beside him, and Harry looked to see the diary lying upon it. He snatched it, and hid it behind his back. He turned his attention back to the two. "No, Neville, Dean, don't!" He yelled. "Get away from it!"

"But we can't just let Death Eaters in here, Harry!" shouted Dean angrily. "They'll kill us all! It's you they want!"

Harry was thunderstruck. He turned to Hermione. "I-Is that true?"

She gave him a tear-filled look. "Yes, Harry! It's Voldemort.. he's.. "

"He's what?" Asked Harry impatiently, and then the portrait hole burst open, throwing Neville and Dean aside, and revealing two Death Eaters, both of whom were smirking.

"I knew ye's was in this room, Potter," said one with a sneer. "Gryffindor, just li'e the Dark Lord said, eh, Nott?"

"Yeh," said the man named Nott, whom Harry recongized as one of the Death Eaters from the Graveyard last June, "Well, Potter, in case you haven' noticed, this school's under attack. Now, now, we've got an alternative for yeh," He raised a hand as Harry made a move, "Yeh can come wit' us easily, to the Dark Lord, or yeh can sit here and let these people die. 'Cause believe me," He suddenly reached out and grabbed Hermione by a handful of bushy hair, and she yelped from the sudden move, "We aint's gonna let people live if yeh don't."

"Let go of her." Harry growled.

Nott smirked. "Yeh say yeh're comin' wit us, and I just migh'."

"Might? You let her go, or I won't come with you! I'm sure your boss won't like that will he?" Harry said vehenomously, and Nott paled a little under the moonlight.

"Yeh're in no position to be makin' demands, you little twerp," he seethed, but his face continued to whiten, "Now, yeh either get goin' or this little girlie here.."

"Oh, I'm sure Voldemort will be really pleased if you don't come back without me," said Harry calmly. "After all, he's sought out to kill me since last year, and since he failed in that attempt, I'm sure he doesn't want to now. So I think the choice rests with me, and with me alone. You let her go, and I'll go with you. You don't, well, then, you'll be the first on my list to feel my wrath."

The Death Eater was as pale as the moon, now. He released the clot of Hermione's hair as Neville dragged her out of arm's way. "So, Potter, let's get goin'. Unless you'd rather I'd kill everyone here."

Harry glanced around; Everyone was watching him, awaiting his decision, like a general in a war. War. That was what this had become. No more was this a little game revolving around unsure decsions and little escapes; People's lives were on the line, and he could not let himself forget it. "Fine. I'll come with you."

"Harry - " said Hermione sharply, but Harry cut her off with a glare as he slipped on his trainers over his cold feet.

"No, Hermione, stay out of this. This is my fight, and mine alone."

He walked forward until he was standing directly in front of the Death Eater. "But there is one thing I'd like to say to you.." said Harry calmly, and Nott raised a suspicious eye at him. "You won't get me today."

Immediately, Harry raised the diary, which he had been concealing behind his back, and whispered. "Avada Kedavra!"

He had been unsure if it would work, and was momentarily stunned when it did; Green light emanated from the book as Nott's eyes lost thier color, and he fell to the floor, lifeless. His partner looked around stupidly, as if just now realizing what had happened. "Who cast tha' curse?!"

"I did," said Harry with a smirk. "And unless you want to feel it next, I suggest you bail."

The Death Eater opened his mouth in a dumb-founded manner and closed it again, before giving a cackle. "Ha, you got the brain the size of a pea, Potter. What ever the hell makes you believe you can kill me you must be - "

"Oh, I can," hissed Harry. "I just killed your friend, and I have no wand on me. Curiously, I seem to be the one in control here."

He smirked at the Death Eater's expression; Somehow, being the one in control was absolutely soothing, entrancing, and he wanted more of it. He wanted more control, power; It made him feel good, as if he could actually control something in his life, which always seemed to be fated. The control made him dominant, and with domination comes fear. That's what he wanted.

"Yeh've lost your mind, Potter. Yeh can't possibly -"

"No?" Smirked Harry. "How's this for a possibility? _Crucio_!"

The Death Eater's sneer quickly turned into a pained face as he fell to the floor, withering and screaming in agony. Harry had no idea how these curses were working, all he knew was that he was fufilling something he had never had before, and it was welcoming. He halted the spell. "Want any more?"

The Death Eater shook his head in protest and stood shaking, then fled out of the portrait hole. Harry watched him go, smirking. He felt a tug, and looked around to see Hermione, who he had been imagining would have been proud to see him fighting off two Death Eaters alone was anything but. She looked furious and scared. "Harry.. how could you..? You killed that man - "

"_How could I_? Hermione, he was going to kill you! Could you expect me to just let that happen?"

"Harry, you just used dark magic! Without even a wand!"

"So what? I had to do something, Hermione!"

"Couldn't you have just stupefied him or something, why'd you have to resort to the kiling curse?!"

"Because he would have killed you, don't you see that?!"

"I wouldn't have let you save me if I'd known you were going to do that!"

Harry gave a bitter laugh and shut the diary forcefully. "Gee, I try and do the right thing, and what happens? I get critiscized for doing something I had no choice to do. Next time," He glared at the girl, "You can save yourself then. I'm tired of doing what I thought was right and getting put out."

He shoved past Hermione angrily, when Seamus stopped him from going up the stairs. "Harry, calm down, man. Nobody's sayin' they're not thankful you saved our hides..I know you're telling the truth now.."

"You sure have a nice way of showing it!"

"Look, don't have a cow at me, all right?" Snapped Seamus. "It's your fault they were here anyway!"

Harry, who had been seething heavily, suddenly stopped. Of course. That's what this was about. This was how they felt. He was to blame for the deaths of their brothers and sisters, the reason the world was topsy-turvy again. The reason they lived in a civil war. He shook his head, a laugh crawling up his lips. "I see. Oh, yeah, I see it now."

"Harry, he didn't mean it like that.." said Hermione tearfully.

"The hell I didn't!" Contradicted Seamus. "Maybe The-Boy-Who-Lived needs a nice slap of reality once in a while! Maybe then he'll realize while he's up here having a good old time with his friends and regular teenage problems that there's a war going on here! You-Know-Who's back, and you're going around like nothin' ever happened - "

It was these words that made Harry snap.

Giving a loud roar, he swiftly reached out and punched Seamus in the face, and the other wizard fell to the floor cupping a bloody jaw. "DON'T YOU DARE DEFINE A WAR FOR ME, SEAMUS FINNIGAN! YOU KNOW NOTHING OF MY LIFE, OR MY PROBLEMS, OR THE GUILT I'VE HAD TO BEAR SINCE LAST JUNE! DON'T YOU FUCKING GO THERE! DON'T YOU DARE SUGGEST MY LIFE'S BEEN A GRAND OLD EVENT BECAUSE IT HASN'T! IT WAS YOU WHO REFUSED TO LISTEN TO ME, TO LISTEN WHEN I TOLD YOU VOLDEMORT WAS BACK, SO DON'T SIT HERE AND CONTRADICT ME ON WHAT'S GOING ON WHEN YOU CAN'T EVEN SEE WHAT HAPPENS TWO FEET PAST YOUR FUCKING EYES!"

His yells echoed off the walls, and before anyone could give so much as a flinch, Harry had darted up the stairs back to his four-poster, kicking everything and anything in sight. Hedwig squealed in fright inside her cage, but Harry did not care; Instead, he flipped open the diary and wrote furiously:

_I wish Seamus Finnigan would DIE!_

And shut it so hard he rattled his bedroom window. Still breathing heavily, he got up and paced, running a hand through his untidy hair. Writing in this diary was not helping. He needed to do more. He needed someone to talk to. _No_, he scolded himself. _I can't go to him. No way. He's just ordered Death Eaters on me, and there's no way I'm going to stoop to him for help when he's gone back on the track of killing me. It's got to be this way. I just have to deal with it. _

He flopped back against his bed, removing his trainers, and sighing; If there was one thing that was incredibly hard to do, it was resisting the urge to run to your worst enemy. He closed his eyes, and slowly fell into the slumber of sleep.

-

The Dark Lord watched the quivering Death Eater in front of him.

"What do you mean Nott's dead, Yaxley?"

The Death Eater named Yaxley shuddered, and bowed to the Dark Lord, coming within inches of his feet. "My Lord, there was nothing I - the Potter boy, intense magic, used a book. He.. he killed Nott.."

Voldemort leaned back against his chair. So Potter had taken out one of his Death Eaters. With the diary, no less. It seemed the boy still sought refuge in it. He smirked. "Should this have been any other situation, you would have been punished, Yaxley. But not today, for it seems the boy is more powerful than I thought. That makes things a lot more interesting. You may go," He announced to Yaxley, who had raised his head. "I wish to be left alone."

Yaxley stood and stumbled out of the room. "Yes, my Lord."

The door closed, and Voldemort was left alone in darkness, the only sounds of company that of the crackling fireplace. He felt a twinge of anger quite suddenly, and could not relate it to his own feelings.

Harry, he realized.

Without thinking, he dived in to his mind's eye, curious to know every detail of Harry's rage and the reason for it.

-

"We're lucky we got Voldemort's most faithful followers out of here when we did."

"Yes, but they seemed to have noticed how I was not amongst them. Doesn't that danger my situation?"

"I think not, Severus. They appeared disconcerned with where you were at the time; They seem to only have come here for a certain reason."

"Harry." Severus nodded. "But why would the Dark Lord give himself away like this? Why has he sought to show his Death Eaters when the Minister has been ignoring the signs?"

"You know how Voldemort's mind works, Severus," said Albus slowly, turning a lemon drop over in his fingers. "It's only natural he would send his Death Eaters here, rather than show up himself to achieve something. That's just how he opperates; I like to think he sent them here tonight to send Harry a message, what ever that may be."

"We've got to get it out of him, Dumbledore," said Severus with a sigh. "Any longer should the boy withhold the truth, the more danger everyone is placed under."

"Yes," agreed Dumbledore, "And I think Harry himself is setting himself up in a dangerous sitaution."

"Why?" Asked Severus. "What do you assume he's doing?"

"I believe Voldemort's told him things, lies, of course, and is trying to gain Harry's trust by turning him against his friends and us."

"But Harry wouldn't fall for that trick. He can he arrogant and hot-headed, yes, but he surely knows the Dark Lord decieves -"

"You forget, Severus," said Dumbledore as he popped the lemon drop into his mouth, "That Harry has no real comprehension of what is truths and lies; Voldemort could be sending him visions, and Harry would percieve them as the truth. And what I've been doing all year is truly an example of that. He knows not whether I speak the truth to him anymore. Together, joined with the frustration at me, and the guilt and anger he's been forced to bear as an outside, he's seeking to turn to someone else, and I believe Voldemort has become that person."

"But that's just so unlikely!" Said Snape sharply. "Harry hates him, and the Dark Lord has attempted to kill him on numerous -"

"Voldemort has not advocated that task, as you saw from tonight, Severus. Which makes me think my theory is true. I think the message Voldemort was trying to send Harry was a reminder of what hasn't been forgotten."

"You may be right," said Severus, "but what do we do if you are..?"

"As to that, I cannot say." said Dumbledore, closing his eyes. "I can only hope we change Harry's mind, but Voldemort might have warped and twisted it so tight that it's impossible to fix now."

Severus shuddered. "I hope, for Harry's sake, that you're wrong.."

-

_Harry, calm down, man. Nobody's sayin' they're not thankful you saved our hides..I know you're telling the truth now.._

_You sure have a nice way of showing it!_

_Look, don't have a cow at me, all right? It's your fault they were here anyway!_

Voldemort pulled himself out of Potter's thoughts, and raised a hand to inspect his fingers. They were as white as ever, and the nails hung hangily on the tips of them. He breathed in the night air, and stood. He felt he needed to pay Harry another visit, in person this time. His Death Eaters just messed everything up, and he had no intention of destroying the message he was trying to get across. No, this was personal. And personal situations must be dealt with only with the parties involved. He smirked. He knew Potter's dependancy upon the diary would come in handy sooner or later.

Giving a dry chuckle, the Dark Lord forced his thoughts on that of the boy's mind of which he had just vacated, and disappeared in a flash of green light. This should be amusing.

-

Harry tossed and turned, struggling to stay asleep. His eyes were so tired, yet his mind was restless again, and in a frustrated assault, he sat up in bed as he tossed his pillow aside, giving up in going back to sleep. He looked around to see everyone in bed, looking for the most part, peaceful. Funny how it had only been mere hours ago when the Death Eaters had invaded the school. His mind thought back, thought of the man he had killed, and felt as if part of himself had died with him. He felt as if he had split himself somehow, altered his personality by commiting such a horrendous deed. And then he was hearing words from the last week in Dumbledore's office, the words he had pondered on for the days after.

Neither can live while the other surves.. either must die at the hand of the other..

If it was either kill or be killed, could Harry face the task of killing the man he hated? Could he, Harry, divulge into such hatred and kill another human being? Could he do this again? He had never wanted to kill anyone, and it looked like his first time would not be his last. He felt inhuman, tainted, now, with the mark of a dead man on his concience, and wondered if he could ever excersize the courage to kill the biggest theat of all. How did you kill someone with no remorse..? He didn't understand it, and he didn't understand how or why he had been able to when he had killed the Death Eater. Something seemed to have awoken inside of him, a demon of some sort, and he had no idea how to be rid of it.

At that moment, he was taken out of thoughts when the diary suddenly flipped open to the page he had written. Startled, Harry took it into his hands, looking down upon the words he had written earlier that night, when a hand reached out, a skeletal white hand, and seized him around the throat. Immediately, Harry dropped the diary as he struggled to breathe, and his hands wrapped around the one around his neck. He barely acknowledged it as Voldemort came out of the book, body and all, with his hand around Harry's wind-pipe.

"Hello, Harry," said the Dark Lord in a low hiss. "Miss me?"

Harry could not answer, but grunted as he strugged for breath. Voldemort smirked at his attempts. "I think we'd better go somewhere private. Ah, here we are." He half-lifted, half-dragged Harry around the room, and out down the stairs that led to the common room. "No, someone might see us." He walked through the hole in the wall that led to a dark hall between the boy and girl dorms, and tossed Harry unremorsefully against the wall, to which the boy groaned as he collided against. "Shut up. Shut up now."

Harry panted, but did as he was told, and Voldemort released the hand on Harry's throat, instead gripping Harry's jaw with it. "Did you like my message, Harry?"

"Yeah, it was really touching, thanks," said Harry sarcastically as he rubbed his tender throat. "I'll be sure to send you one for Christmas."

Voldemort growled, and shoved Harry's head back, and the boy again groaned as he saw stars. "Don't you get that tone with me, little boy. You seem to forget I have you cornered."

Harry snorted. "Oh, back to reality, are you, Tom?"

Another growl, and Voldemort only shoved Harry harder. "You know damn well I don't like anyone to use that name. Now if you're done with the theatrics, I'd like to cut to the chase. You killed one of my Death Eaters."

"Yeah, with your diary. Thanks for it, by the way. Too bad for you that your own creation is going to bring you down." said Harry with a smirk.

Voldemort growled feircely and slapped Harry across the face. "That's what you think. You killed one of my servants, and I cannot let that go unpunished."

Through a haze of pain, Harry smirked again, and spoke in a mock voice. "Oh, _punish me_, _Tom_."

Voldemort seized Harry's throat again and the boy choked out. "Oh, I will. Don't you tempt me, Harry. What's to stop me from killing you right now? Nothing. You should be thankful I've let you live this long. You're a fool, Harry. Don't you realize how, when you came to me, easily I could have killed you?"

"Why didn't you?" Harry choked out. "You knew I was in an emotional state. You had me right where you wanted me. Why didn't you do anything?"

Voldemort ignored this, and instead rasped. "What has Dumbledore told you?"

"What has he told me?" Harry chuckled. "Wouldn't tell you if my life depended on it!"

Voldemort slapped the boy again, this time, harder. Harry dizzied. "Unfortunately for you, it does. So tell me - what has Dumbledore told you?"

"He told me that you're an asswhole, so bugger off." said Harry angrily, and he unclenched Voldemort's hands from his throat and made a move to leave.

Voldemort, however, roughly seized him around the waist, and Harry was momentarily taken aback when the Dark Lord knocked him to the floor, his body on top of Harry's, so that they had eye-contact. Harry was again reminded of that night in the cabin, and fought under the Dark Lord's grip. "Get off of me!"

"That's not what you said last week, Harry," said Voldemort silkily, as his hands trailed along Harry's hips. "Now tell me - what has Dumbledore.. told you..?" He moved his hands along Harry's stomach, the cold hands trailing across warm skin. Harry gave a slight gasp.

"He.. he told me.." The hands moved up his chest, massassiging the nipples. "He told me.."

"Yes, Harry?" Inquired Voldemort softly, and he leaned forward so that he and Harry were nose to nose, breathing eachother's breaths of life. He lowered his face so that his mouth was lying at Harry's lean neck, and gnawed. The boy gasped again as a small trickle of blood doused his night shirt.

"He told me.. about the prophecy.."

Voldemort hovered, and ran his left hand over Harry's right cheek, as the boy finally opened his eyes. "What about the prophecy..?"

"He said.. he said one of us.. must.. kill the other..."

Smirking, Voldemort let his hands derail from Harry's skin, and slowly got up off the boy. "Good. Very good, Harry. Very good, indeed."

He lowered an arm and yanked the boy to his feet, startling Harry momentarily before shoving his tounge deep into the boy's mouth. Again, Harry found himself conflicted with the choice of kissing back or stopping it, and again, the desperation was there, and he was powerless to stop himself as he returned the kiss, losing himself and his worries inside it once again.

After a moment, however, it broke, and Harry was left standing against a stone wall, with Voldemort's body lying gently on his.

"I must go, Harry. But I'll be back. You've done very well. And Lord Voldemort always rewards those who do well.." He stroked Harry's cheek with his thumb before he disappeared into the night, the green light swallowing him like death, and Harry slid against the wall once it had eradicated, and began to cry.

-

This one was enjoying to write too. Hope you enjoy reading it! Next chapter, someone gets hurt - Seamus? - and more Voldy/Harry! XD

- Tainted Visions


	12. All Around Me

**In Sleep He Sang To Me**

**Summary: When a stressful fifth year at Hogwarts arises, Harry Potter uses the old diary of his nemesis to relieve some of the stress. What he doesn't know is that the mind connection between himself and Voldemort grows ever stronger, and a curse has been placed upon the diary to fufil the writer's thoughts, and allow only bad things to happen.**

**A/N: So, I heard BIG news on Deathly Hallows today. Scroll down to the author's note if you want to read it at the bottom. Won't spoil it here. **

**Here's another chapter for you guys! Enjoy!**

**-**

**"I can feel you all around me, thickening the air I'm breathing. Holding on to what I'm feeling, savoring this heart that's healing." All Around Me, Flyleaf.**

**-**

**Chapter 12: All Around Me**

Harry had a hard time that morning after the restless night of sleep he'd had. For one, he kept dozing off in his classes, and although Snape seemed to be back to his usual, snappish self, he had kept Harry after class and insisted he get some rest. Harry, though knowing Snape meant well, tried to insist that he was fine and that he was just restless from bad dreams, but Snape seemed to know better.

"Potter.." He sighed, and shook his head. "Harry... I can tell when you're trying to cover something up, and believe me, I know it now. You need to sleep. What ever it may be that you're frustrated about, just let yourself go, and get some rest. Things may end up worse if you continue to stay awake any longer. It weakens both the barriers of the mind and the physical well-being of your body."

Harry sighed; There was no saying 'no' to Snape. "All right, I'll get some sleep. Thanks, Professor.."

Snape just nodded, and Harry left the dungeons, rubbing his tired eyes. Before he had even hit his pillow on his bed, he was fast asleep, and hadn't awoken until dinner that night, feeling somewhat refreshed, but still remotely tired. He yawned just as Ron poked his head in the doorway.

"Harry, are you coming down for dinner?"

Harry sighed, and looked at him. "Yeah.. yeah, in a minute."

Ron gave a small smile. "You know you don't have to, mate. I could bring you something up."

Harry smiled. "That'd be great. Thanks, Ron."

"No problem." said Ron, and he withdrew from the room.

Harry gave a small sigh and turned over on his side. No use trying to get back to sleep now. He reached out and grabbed the diary gently, pulling it towards him and frowned. He opened it, and examined the page he had written on, and felt a twinge of guilt. Why had he written he'd hoped Seamus died? He had been angry, yes, but that was no excuse to wish death upon his classmate! He was about to tear the page out when there was a scream, causing him to drop it and shoot up from his bed. He ran out of the dormitory at a rapid pace, nearly tripping himself on the stairs, but did not stop until he reached the common room. He almost bumped into Ron, who was speeding, about to head upstairs, and sighed in relief when he saw Harry.

"Ron, what's wrong? I thought you were going down to dinner.."

"It's Seamus, Harry!" said Ron, white-faced. "He's lying in the entrance hall covered in blood! No one knows what happened to him!"

Harry felt sick. "Is he..?"

"I don't know, they were taking him up to the hospital wing when I came out!" said Ron, in a slight panic. "Who or what could have attacked him..?"

Harry gulped. "I don't know. I hope.. oh no. Ron, you don't think.. I did do you..?"

He looked up into his friend's pale face, hoping the latter might contradict him. "I.. I don't think you did it, Harry. But.. remember when you said.. you thought You-Know-Who was possessing you..?"

Now Harry had paled. "Yeah, but.. I'd have remembered, wouldn't I..? And.. I was asleep.."

Ron shook his head, as if to clear it. "This is just so crazy, Harry.. unless.. You-Know-Who attacked him himself!"

Harry almost had a strange urge to laugh. _Voldemort attack Seamus_? "I don't think so.. why would he attack him?"

"Well, he does have a mind-connection with you, Harry. Maybe he saw how angry you were and took it out on Seamus himself. Though why," He looked at Harry almost suspiciously, "would he attack him for you?"

Harry looked at the floor, hands shaking. "I-I don't know.."

Why had Ron's suspicions intrigued him so much? Yes, he had written in the diary, but it wasn't capable of attacking someone was it? _No_, he contradicted himself, _it killed someone_. It had commited the worst act of sin based alone on what he was thinking, and... oh my God. Harry's eyes widened. Of course, he should have seen it before now. The diary worked as an outlet, and more than that - it acted as a weapon. Dumbledore had been right; The curse had not eradicated. Now, it fufilled what ever thoughts he had, any dark feelings he felt, and commited any punishment he desired. He had finally done it - he had slipped into the dark.

Heart beating rapidly, Harry ignored Ron when he pushed past him and out of the common room; He ran down the stairs and sped in the halls, bypassing students who were going back to their common rooms. He did not stop until he reached the entrance hall, a stitch in his side, and mind racing. Seamus was gone. Grunting, Harry again bypassed Ron, who was now exasperatedly calling his name, but he continued to ignore him, until he no longer could run, and stopped just outside the hospital wing doors, where Ron steered him around by the shoulder.

"Harry, mate, what's wrong with you?"

Harry panted. "The diary, Ron. It's doing this."

Ron paled. "Harry, you don't know that. How the hell can a book attack someone..?"

"No, listen to me." Harry urged. "That diary.. Hermione was right; it's commiting what I'm thinking, Ron. I'm a danger to myself just like it is to me! If I feel anger, it's going to carry it out. I need to make sure Seamus is all right!" He dizzied, and felt as if he were about to faint. He nearly fell on his feet.

"Harry, you look as if you're about to pass out! What on earth did you write?" Ron asked, and lowered Harry onto a bench just outside the hospital wing.

Harry gulped, and answered. "I wrote for him to die."

Ron didn't say anything except gasp, and Harry turned to look at him. "I have to stop it. What ever is making me feel like this.. it has to stop.."

There was a sudden gasp, and he got up, Ron just behind him, and opened the doors.

Madame Promprey jumped as the two entered. "Boys! You cannot just barge in here - "

"Look," said Harry angrily, "one of my friends has just been hurt and I want to know what the hell happened!"

She sighed, and looked over at the still body lying on the bed. "We found him badly grazed and hurt in the entrance hall. He didn't even reach here before he stopped breathing."

Harry was robbed of all breath. "No. No!"

He hadn't even noticed that Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall were in the room, watching him.

She turned away. "I'm sorry. He didn't make it. He was too badly injured, and I did all I could, but whatever attacked him seemed to have every intention of killing him."

But Harry wasn't listening; He turned and fled from the room, Ron too surprised to run after him. He ran like he had never run in his life, and was soon racing through the hallway and out the doors into the grounds, not even caring that he was disobeying curfew; What ever punishment he would suffer for being out after hours did not matter, now. What mattered was the answers he needed.

He ran through the Forbidden Forest, his mind set only upon one place and one person, and soon he had found Voldemort's cabin, raced up the stairs, and pounded on the door. He heard footsteps, and the door opened, revealing an angry-looking Voldemort. His expression changed immediately upon seeing Harry.

"Harry. What are you -?"

"The diary!" Screeched Harry, and pushed himself so that he was face to face with his hated enemy. "YOU'RE making me write in it! It's YOU! You're making me feel like this, and you -!"

But words were no longer enough, and he was suddenly pounding on the Dark Lord's chest. "YOU! I should've known I couldn't trust you! You're making me write this stuff! You're tricking me like you always have, and you -"

"Harry!" Voldemort said loudly, and seized Harry's wrists. "_Listen to me_!"

The boy stopped, panting, and tears running down his face. "You write in the diary because, like you told me, you see it as a refuge. I am not making you do anything. THEY, they are the ones who make you feel so angry and misunderstood, because it is THEM who can't see the real you! They can't understand you, Harry! They never have, never will! What ever you're feeling, it's because THEY brought it upon themselves, and because they choose to ridicule you! Don't you see that..?"

Harry stared into the red eyes, his arms shaking with supressed misery and fear. "Then why.. why do I.. why do I keep.. I hate you, I..."

But Harry could not form the words, and Voldemort placed a hand under Harry's chin gently. "Because you know I'm the only person who understands you, Harry. They cannot. You don't have to fear me; They make you. They make you do this and that because they want you to be the hero. Don't you ever get to be the person you want to be?"

"No," said Harry in a hiccup, and he choked on his tears. "They.. they want me to fight you, and never be me. I'm supposed to be this really tough person, but I can't. They make me feel like this.."

"Yes, Harry," said Voldemort, and he wiped Harry's tears away with his hand. Harry shivered underneath his touch. "You don't have to fear me. I've said that to you before. You're quite free to decide your own fate, not what they want. Do you believe me?"

Harry nodded. "They're probably going to blame me for Seamus's death now.."

Voldemort shook his head. "They only have themselves to blame. You are not at fault. It matters not if you wrote in the diary; It does not have a curse. What's been happening are mere coincidences and nothing more." He said slowly.

Harry gave a small gasp and tears repuddled down the boy's pale face, and Voldemort ran his fingers through the soft, dark untidy hair comfortly. "It's all right, Harry. Let it out."

The boy sobbed, then, and fell to his knees on the stairs, body shaking. Voldemort lowered himself so that they were still the same height and rubbed Harry's back gently, as the boy leaned on his chest, wet tears soaking through his robes.

-

Sorry for such a short chap. My mom is rushing me off, and I wanted to at least give you guys an update! XD

(Shakes head) Poor Harry. He just can't decide what he wants, can he? XD

Oh, and what news on Deathly Hallows? Let me tell you:

-

-

-

**DUMBLEDORE IS GAY! **

XD Was a complete shock for me when I heard. Not that I have anything against that.. it's just a shock. LOL.


	13. Dirty Little Secret

**In Sleep He Sang To Me**

**Summary: When a stressful fifth year at Hogwarts arises, Harry Potter uses the old diary of his nemesis to relieve some of the stress. What he doesn't know is that the mind connection between himself and Voldemort grows ever stronger, and a curse has been placed upon the diary to fufil the writer's thoughts, and allow only bad things to happen.**

**A/N: OMG, 7 reviews last chapter! Thank you all so very much! This is the first story I've actually had above ten reviews! Ice cream for everyone! Or Voldy Ice-cream.. ;) XD Just kidding. But ice cream for you! **

**Anyway, another chap for you:)**

**- **

**"I'll keep you my dirty little secret. Don't tell anyone, or you'll be just another regret. I hope you can keep it.. my dirty little secret.." - Dirty Little Secret, All American Rejects**

**-**

**Chapter 13: Dirty Little Secret**

It was almost a half an hour later when Harry had stopped crying. Sniffling, he wiped his runny nose on the back of his sleeve as he lay against Voldemort's chest, the consistant touch of the other man warming his cold body. Night had begun to fall, and the sun had set, and the air no longer held the warmth of the sun, but now presented the chill of the night, and he snuggled closer to the body, as if having every intention of sucking the body heat out of the Dark Lord to take for his own.

"You'd better go back now, Harry."

Harry looked up into the pale face before him. It was impassive. "But I -"

"No 'buts', Harry," said Voldemort crossly, and he glared down at the teen with something like disappointment in his eyes. "If you stay out here any later, you'll get detention. I wouldn't be surprised if you had it now."

"But I don't care!" said Harry in a growling retort. "I don't care anymore if I get in trouble!"

"You know that's a lie as much as I do." said Voldemort, and his voice was softer, and he had the ghost of a smile etched upon his face that took Harry momentarily aback; He looked so.. human..

"It's not." said Harry in a small voice, and he looked away from the man's face. "I don't want to have to go back there.. to them.."

Voldemort shook his head, and cupped a finger underneath Harry's jaw, turning the boy's face so that he was looking at him. "It's almost nightfall, Harry. It's not wise to stay inside the forest at night, with all of the creatures that inhabit it."

"But no one bothers you," said Harry almost desperately. "Why can't I stay with you..?"

"No one may bother me, but imagine what they will do if they see you, let alone you with me; they'll not only attack you, because you are growing into a young man, but they will also see you a traitor and attempt to kill you. Is that what you want?" Voldemort's cold voice was sharp, and the boy looked up into his face and away again, silent. Voldemort sighed.

"I don't believe you know what you want anymore.."

"I do. I do know." said Harry, and his eyes locked with the Dark Lord's as they turned to look at him again, and for the first time, there was a look like desperation and vulnerability in his eyes, of need, and Voldemort's annoyance was increasing each moment those pain-filled emerald eyes locked with his. "But if you want me to go back.."

The boy's eyes suddenly grew blank, without emotion, much like his own, and he stood. "I'll leave. But don't expect me to go back there.. I'll sleep outside if I have to."

Voldemort almost smirked. God, the boy was so stubborn! "You are the most stubborn person I've ever met, Harry."

He got to his feet as well, and Harry again looked away. "Is that a good or bad thing?"

"Both. It has benefits either way," explained Voldemort, and he stopped directly in front of Harry, and lifted his chin so that he was looking at him yet again. "When you go back.. you must not tell them about us. Not only would they condemn you, they'd condemn you far worse than any magical creature would. You understand?" He asked softly, as the boy gave a shiver of fear. "I'll keep you my dirty little secret, but you must do the same, Harry. Just know you can come to me anytime you want. I'll listen to you, I'll help you, I'll make you feel happier than you ever have; It just must remain our secret, our dirty little secret, otherwise others, like Dumbledore, will seek to rip that away from you. They'll try to make sure you never have anyone to listen to you."

Harry gulped, and Voldemort was sure Harry didn't want that to happen. "I won't tell them. I promise." Harry looked back into the Dark Lord's eyes with again that vulnerable look, and Voldemort was forced to look away, hating it. "I won't tell them anything.."

Voldemort looked back into the boy's face, and saw that he was looking firmly to the ground now. "Good boy. Good boy, Harry. " He whispered softly, and he reached out his fingers and ran them through Harry's dark, untidy hair and frowned. "Doesn't your hair ever lie flat?" He asked a little, in exasperation, as the boy looked at him with a cheeky grin.

"Nope. No matter what I do to it, it strays back up.."

"Mmm." said Voldemort, and he withdrew his fingers, still tingling with the sensation of Harry's soft hair. "We'll have to see what I can do about that."

"Really?" Asked Harry, and something like happiness flickered in his eyes, putting Voldemort at unease; He hated that look more than the one he'd seen a few moments ago from Harry. "You would do that?"

"I suppose so, yes," said Voldemort a little roughly, as he looked away from the boy with an incredible urge to kick something. "Go, now, Harry. Before it gets later."

"O-okay." Harry said softly, and turned away.

Immediately, Voldemort sighed and steered the boy around by the shoulder to face him again, and his eyes again found that vulnerable look. "I just don't want you to get into trouble, Harry."

Harry nodded. "I know. T-thank you."

He gave a small, sad smile, and Voldemort nodded curtly. Harry took that to mean a 'you're welcome, and end of conversation' and departed, looking back continuously as he stumbled through the forest. Soon, though, he was too far away to see the Dark Lord and broke into a run, emerging from the Forest and finding Hogwarts again. Scampering across the courtyard, he stopped short of the door and reahed out a hesitant hand.

Sighing, he prepared himself for what ever he would find inside, and pulled the doors open.

He almost collided with someone upon entering, and muttered. "S-sorry, I.."

He looked up to see who it was, and nearly fell out the door in shock; It was Snape, and he was frowning.

"Took a nighttime walk, did you?" He asked, black eyes boring into his emerald green. Harry shifted underneath them.

"I.. yeah, I.."

"Don't you lie to me!"

The sharp voice made Harry jump, and he fell sideways, nearly tripping to the floor. "No, no, I.. I.." He was shaking, and his hands raised above his head as he imagined a sharp blow bust his jaw, and wet, soft, blood form in his mouth, against flesh and sharp teeth; Except he never felt it.

"Harry? Harry, what's wrong with you?"

Strong arms removed his gently, and for a moment, he thought he was feeling Voldemort's soft, skeletal hands, and expected to see the Red eyes he had so become accustomed to. When he saw the black, and Snape's face, he felt slightly let down. "I.. I'm sorry, sir, I.."

Something like concern passed in Snape's eyes, like that night in Dumbledore's office. "Are you sure? You're very pale.."

"I'm fine, sir." said Harry in a stronger voice as he got to his feet. "I.. Seamus.. he's.."

"He's dead." said Snape softly. "The Headmaster would like to speak to you again, Harry. And I.. I have something.. to tell you."

Snape looked uneasy, and his locks of greasy hair obscured his face for a moment as he turned his head away from Harry. Harry waited, but he did not speak, and Harry blinked, confused, and urged him. "What? What is it.. Professor?"

Snape looked around at him again as he spoke, and shook his head. "Not here. Let's go to the Headmaster's office."

Harry nodded, and followed him as he passed many students with stunned looks on their faces, including, he saw, Ron and Hermione. Ron gave him a look plainly asking 'why did you bail on me before?', and Hermione beamed at him. Harry gave them a hurried wave meaning that he would talk to them later, and inclined his head at Snape. They seemed to understand, so he jogged to keep up with the Potions Master.

They entered the Gargoyle, and within a minute, were outside the Headmaster's office. Snape knocked, and Dumbledore's calm voice called for him to enter, to which Snape obliged, Harry on his heels.

Dumbledore smiled when he saw them. "Oh, you fetched him. Thank you, Severus."

Snape nodded, and Harry stopped in front of Dumbledore's desk, waiting for him to speak.

"Well, Harry," said Dumbledore, as he finally obliged, and turned to look at him. "I know our last visit must have been hard for you.. hearing news that you must destroy your worst enemy or be destroyed must be incredibly hard to bear."

Harry gulped. "Yeah, it is. I never thought I'd have to kill him.."

"Ah," Dumbledore raised a finger, smiling. "We always think on things never knowing what must be expected of us. But as you know now, Harry. You must either kill him or die yourself. But only because fate has ensured it. There is still time to turn it around, to stop it, but you know Voldemort will never seek to do that; He wants to kill you, and nothing is going to get in the way of that, by now, after all of these years..."

Harry's eyes widened, and he felt a flare of anger. Here he was again, battling truths and lies; Who was it that was lying to him? Who was telling the truth? Were both of them decieving him? They could not both be right, on different sides as the other. He was confused again, not knowing which path to take or who to believe. Of course, he hadn't thought much of the prophecy since the last night, but at the mention of it again, he was starting to wonder.

He knew he had to stop this increasing vulnerability he had, to keep running to the Dark Lord, but somehow, he felt he could not control it; Sometimes, he felt like giving up and stop being everyone's 'Golden Boy' or 'The-Boy-Who-Lived', but now he felt like 'The-Boy-Who-Did-Not-Have-A-Real-Life-Because-Oh-My-God-If-You-Did'. All he wanted, and nobody had cared to listen then, was a normal life, free of the worry or having the chip of saving-the-world on your shoulder. How he had always wondered what it was like to be free of it, to actually live like a teenage boy, to not have to worry about pain and death and all the horror he had seen these last few years. Voldemort seemed to understand that, and he was offering him a choice, he was offering to help him, to protect him, to save him from the pain; He wasn't demanding he do it, like these people, like the rest of the world, and he had longed to hear that he didn't have to for years. Wasn't what he wanted, not what he had to to do, important?

His mind was made up. Dumbledore was the one lying here, and he bet Snape was in on it, too, since he seemed to have discussed this whole prophecy with him. Was that a lie, too, to keep him from the person who now had become his greatest confidant, something that neither Hermione nor Ron had been? Was this all a set-up to keep him away from the only one who would listen to him? Anger licked his insides.

"Severus has something he wishes to tell you, Harry." said Dumbledore suddenly, and Harry looked up, coming out of his stupor.

Snape sighed, and Harry waited; Let's see what kind of lie the person who hated him most in this school could come up with!

"This will come as a slight shock to you, Harry," said Snape, and he spoke slowly, as if afraid. "And I know you will probably hate me more for this than anything. But.. " He nodded his head, determined, and peirced Harry with tear-filled eyes, shocking Harry. "I.. I knew your mother, but more than that... I loved her."

Harry was shocked into numbness. "You.. you loved my mother..?"

He felt everything he had just thought of just slide out of his mind, knowing that this was no lie; Snape's eyes said it all.

"Yes. We.. we were friends since we were small children; I had always been entranced by her. She was more than a friend to me; She was a listener, a confidant, someone I could run to when things looked bad. She was a lover. So when we started school together, we were as close of friends as you can possibly imagine. Something like how you, Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger are." He nodded at Harry, who slowly returned it. "But of course, there was someone who kept trying to get her attention. Your father. Eventually, he won her over, and although I hadn't accepted it at first, since jealousy was my only companion at the time, I slowly realized that she was happy, and that was all I ever wanted for her. But then," he stopped, suddenly, and turned away. "I.. I, back when I was a Death Eater for.. Voldemort, leaked to him the one thing that set in motion not only your life, but the Dark Lord's as well, and the deaths of your parents. I informed him of the prophecy."

Harry's stomach dropped as he was shocked into numbness, his head spinning. Snape. Snape had told Voldemort the prophecy?!

"I had no idea that it was your parents or you, Harry," said Snape as he turned to face Harry again, his eyes shining with plea. "I regret it more than you can ever imagine. I begged for him to spare her, to not kill her, but he did so anyway. I've spent my whole life.. these last sixteen years, doing everything I have been doing for her. She wanted me to protect you, I know she wanted it. You are.. the only reminder I have of her.."

He looked into Harry's emerald eyes, which reflected shock and betrayal. Harry felt as if the world had ended.

"No." he said, and he shook his head in denial. "No.."

"I'm sorry." said Snape, and he turned away again, and though Harry heard the older man sniffling, he could not comprehend what he had just been told. Dumbledore seemed to know it, because he sighed gently, and got up from his chair, coming around to Harry.

"Harry.."

He reached out to pat his shoulder, but Harry growled and wrenched the old, wrinkled hand off. "No! Don't you touch me!"

Dumbledore withdrew, eyes wide in shock, as Harry's anger finally boiled over.

"Why?!" He turned towards Snape, his fists curled. "WHY DID YOU TELL HIM?! WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST KEEP IT QUIET! YOU WERE ACCOMPLISHED AT LEGILIMENS, HE WOULDN'T HAVE EVER KNOWN! YOU.. YOU TOOK MY FAMILY AWAY FROM ME!"

He felt tears running down his face, and made no effort to stop them; Giving out an agonized yell, he kicked at Dumbledore's desk, and the older man did nothing to stop him, so he continued until his feet hurt before sliding to the floor with hot tears soaking his shirt collar.

Snape made no movement whatsoever, and Harry knew he, too, had been succumbed to tears as emotion flew over both of them. As much anger as he felt, there was also regret and pity there inside him, too, and although Harry fought to seclude it, he knew he could not. For once, he and Snape were not united in anger or divided by hate; They were joined by tragedy.

Harry looked up at his greasy-haired professor, who was still turned away from him. "Is that the only reason you even look into my eyes..? To see my mom's? Is that who you see when you look at me, not my father, or me myself? Just who I remind you of..?" Harry rasped out.

Snape cleared his throat, and his voice was grief-filled. "As much as you remind me of both your parents, I do see who you really are, Harry."

"I don't believe you!" snarled Harry, and he rose to his feet as Snape finally turned to look at him. "No one ever sees the real me! No one! They see who they WANT to see, not who I really am! It's always been like that! You hated me before, and you hate me now, don't deny it!" He growled as Snape opened his mouth to protest. "And you!" he turned to Dumbledore, who raised his eyebrows. "You just expect me to be this 'Chosen One' and save your world for you! Maybe I don't WANT to anymore! Maybe I want to live like a normal kid once in a while without having it ripped away from me!"

He kicked at Dumbledore's desk again, this time busting a hole through it. "I hate it, I hate it, I hate it all! I hate you all lying to me! I'm sick of it!"

"Harry.." said Dumbledore, but Harry cut him off with a menacing glare.

"No! Don't you DARE cut me off! If none of you refuse to listen, I'll MAKE you! I can make what ever I want to happen happen, and there's no one that - "

"You can make things happen because you choose to seek refuge in a cursed diary, aided in a part by a man who doesn't even care about you." said Dumbledore angrily.

"HE DOES CARE ABOUT ME, YOU OLD FOOL!" Yelled Harry, and he had an urge to strangle the man. "HE'S THE ONLY ONE THAT CARES! I DON'T SEE ANY OF YOU ENCOURAGING ME TO BE NORMAL FOR ONCE! HE'S THE ONLY ONE THAT CAN MAKE ME FEEL THAT WAY! HE UNDERSTANDS ME, HE LISTENS TO ME, AND HE'S THE ONLY PERSON WORTH LISTENING TO!"

And before Snape or Dumbledore could say or do anything, he fled from the room, slamming the door as he went. Speeding up the stairs back to the common room, he hissed the password at the Fat Lady who muttered something incoherent. Ignoring her, he sped past Ron and Hermione who called to him, asking what happened; He ran up into the dorm and seized the diary lying at the foot of his bed, shoving it inside his school bag, which he draped over his shoulder. He sped down the stairs again and was about to go out the portrait hole when Hermione stopped him, her arms spread out in front of her.

"Get out of the way." he snarled.

She shook her head. "No. What ever happened in there, I can assure you we're not letting you leave again."

Anger rose inside him, an anger that he could often compare to hatred and growled. "I can assure you that you don't want to test me, now MOVE!"

"Don't you order her!" said Ron offensively, and he stood automatically, as if readying himself for a fight.

"Don't you tell me what to do!" Harry retorted angrily, rounding on Ron. "I can leave if I damn well want to, and no one's going to stop me even if I have to make them move!"

"Don't you threaten -" snarled Ron, but Harry ignored him and turned back to Hermione.

"Get out of the way and let me leave!"

"No." she said simply. "You can't just runaway everytime something happens, like you do with that damned diary. I see it in your bag - you're going to write in it, aren't you?"

"Why do you care?" Growled Harry. He was getting impatient. "Let me out."

"No." she said again, and she reached inside his bag and snatched the diary. "I'm not letting you get this again. I'm taking it to Dumbledore, and hopefully, he'll destroy it as soon as possible."

"NO YOU WON'T!" Roared Harry, and he threw himself at Hermione in a tackle, and she gasped as she hit the floor, the book flying out of her hand. Harry got up off her seething, holding the diary to his chest as Ron shoved him aside as he kneeled in front of Hermione, who was crying in pain, clutching her sides.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" He asked in a fearful voice. The bushy-headed girl gave a cry of pain and twisted herself on the floor.

"I think.. my ribs.. broken."

Ron gave Harry a furious look, but Harry did not soften under it; The whole Gryffindor common room was now packed with students coming out of bed to see what was going on, and Harry slipped away unnoticed from the room, running through the deserted halls and out of the castle. He didn't even stop when he reached the end of the courtyard or the bypass to Hagrid's hut. He did not even stop until he was through the clearing completely. He had stopped just in front of Voldemort's cabin when he realized what he had done.

Falling to the dirt on his knees, Harry gave a small sob and let himself lie against the soft brown earth, too afraid to knock on the door, yet he felt that's what he needed right now. Forcing himself to his feeet, he stumbled up the stairs and knocked softly, hands shaking too much to actually form a fist. The door opened, and he was staring at Voldemort yet again. He didn't look surprised to see Harry there.

"They - Snape, I hate - so much - I - don't know.." Harry sputtered through sobs inchorently, and Voldemort reached out and seized his forearm.

"Harry. Talk slowly. What happened?" He asked urgently, and he brought the boy into the house, steering him to the couch, as he seemed incapable of getting there himself.

Harry gave a small choke when he was seated, tears running afresh down his face. "They keep lying to me.. they.. Snape.. lied to me.. they're.. they're all trying to take the diary! And I hurt my friend, and I'm so angry, and I don't want them to take it! I don't want them to take you away from me!" The boy was rambling, and Voldemort was sure half of what he was saying was absent-minded, but when he looked up at the Dark Lord, the eyes were pain-filled and betrayed.

"Harry," said Voldemort softly, and he put a hand on the boy's shaking shoulder. "I won't let them take the diary from you. I won't let them seperate us. You don't need them, Harry. They just continue to lie to you and cause you pain. Do you see that now?" He asked, and the boy nodded in understanding.

"Can I.. can I stay with you?" He asked, and his voice was hoarse.

Voldemort thought for a moment. "Yes, Harry. You can. I think you need a night away from them. Come, we'll have tea."

He held out a hand for the boy to take, and Harry took it almost willingly as Voldemort led him into the kitchen.

Now he knew why he felt so safe here, so understood; Because he was. Who would have thought that the one person who souhght to do him in, who mistunderstood so much of things that made them different understood what drew them together? The man who was once his greatest enemy was now his most loyal companion.

And he had no intention of that being ripped away from him.

-

Wow, really long chapter. My hands hurt. XD Enjoy:D

- Tainted Visions


	14. Evil Angel

**In Sleep He Sang To Me**

**Summary: When a stressful fifth year at Hogwarts arises, Harry Potter uses the old diary of his nemesis to relieve some of the stress. What he doesn't know is that the mind connection between himself and Voldemort grows ever stronger, and a curse has been placed upon the diary to fufil the writer's thoughts, and allow only bad things to happen.**

**A/N: WARNING: Some mention of past child abuse in this chapter. And on a related note, the song for this chapter reminds me a lot of OOTP... **

**- **

**"Put me to sleep, evil angel.. open your wings, evil angel. Oh, fly over me evil angel. Why can't I breathe, evil angel?**" **Evil Angel, Breaking Benjamin.**

**-**

**Chapter Fourteen: Evil Angel**

Voldemort watched the boy sitting in front of him with an almost impassive face; The emerald eyes were thoughtless and blank, as if pondering something, and the Dark Lord briefly wondered, as he watched him, whether or not the boy missed those he'd left behind at the castle. It was almost midnight, now, and the boy yawned suddenly and wrapped around the blanket Voldemort had given him more forcibly over his shoulders. He looked up, and Voldemort could see the exhaustion painted like plaster in his eyes.

"I think you'd better be getting some sleep, Harry." He said softly, and the boy gave a small nod and stood. Voldemort too got to his feet and Harry tripped tiredly over himself. Voldemort had the strange urge to chuckle. The boy was so clumsy, but he was even more clumsy when tired. Keeping note of that, the Dark Lord strode over to the half-asleep boy and draped an arm over his waist, half-lifting him to the couch. Harry gave a slight struggle, most likely from the sudden fear of being touched, but when Voldemort ran a finger through his hair gently in reassurance, the boy relaxed.

He placed him on the couch, and the boy's eyes closed. Moving the pillow closer, he placed the boy's head gently on it and laid him gently down. He grabbed the blanket lying on the floor and draped it around the boy, and he snuggled as it warmed his body. Opening his eyes, he gave a small smile, and muttered thanks drowsily. Voldemort chuckled softly. "You're welcome, Harry. Get some rest."

Harry closed his eyes and seemed to drift immediately off to sleep, leaving the Dark Lord alone and awake. Taking the armchair by the fire, he sat back and watched the sleeping boy, not quite knowing why he was so entranced by this child he had sworn to hate and who was now becoming more like an adversary that he loved to hate at the same time. What was supposed to be venemous hatred was becoming more like a poisionous love. Voldemort shook his head to clear it.

No, he did not love the boy. He was incapable of feeling that. Or that was what he told himself. Though he had never known it, this child represented everything it was, and the fact that he was putting up with it and allowing the boy to live was showing that he, at least, had grasped the concept of it, even understood and accepted it. But still, he did not know it. What this spell was, or what ever he pleased himself to call it, was just for his benefit; Harry's trust and confidence was building the fire that was his power, and although the boy did not know it, he wondered if Harry knew what he had been doing these past few weeks. He wondered what he himself had been doing these past few weeks.

But this disgust at himself, or at Harry, could not remain while he was sitting here and watching him sleep so innocently. He felt something spark inside him as the boy slept, breathing becoming even as the slumber grew deeper, and he struggled inside him to figure out what it was. Was it guilt, for all of the pain he had inflicted upon the boy himself? Was it regret at the fact that had he turned his back on the prophecy, that this little boy who was so lost and innocent would have parents who loved him and lived a happy life? Was it sadness that overwhelmed him, as Harry turned on his side and he was gazing at the lightening-bolted scar on the boy's forehead, for both the curses and gifts it had given to both of them? It had been his downfall, and it had been the sign of Harry's life, forever imprinted on the boy's skin as a constant reminder, as it served for both of them.

He hadn't realized it until now, but as he sat here, he knew that Harry represented everything he had lost and gained. He had gained power, and respect, though it had been warped from fear. But he had lost so much more; He lost everything that he was, Tom Riddle, the son of a woman who had died for him, just as Harry's mother had done, although it hadn't been in noble sacrifice. He had lost the surface of a skin he had been so used to, replaced by a twisted and derieved flesh and body, that didn't quite seem to fit him, although it was his. That night sixteen years ago had been his end just as he had intended it to be Harry's.

How ironic, how perfect, was it that the boy's life which he had intended to end had become the reason they both lived? He lived to destroy him, and Harry lived due to a back-firing curse, the curse that no one else had survived. The curse that had killed everything inside them.

Was his anger of the past sixteen years genuinely because he knew the fact that Harry had survived it and that he had failed, or was it the hatred he felt at himself for losing everything he had worked so hard for prior to those years? Was it his own hatred at himself, not Harry, that had been his downfall in the first place..?

He came out of his thoughts as Harry gave a sudden, rattling breath; He wondered if the boy had breathing problems. There was so little he actually.. knew.. about him. He recalled Harry telling about his relatives, but he'd never really asked him, and why would he? He wasn't supposed to care! He wasn't supposed to wonder how the boy's life was like, only about how his death would happen. And yet..

He found himself caring. And the Dark Lord was not supposed to care.

He growled to himself, and turned to look into the fire. The flames were crackling, warmth coming off like body heat, and he stared at it, his ruby eyes reflected off the light, so he could see them inside it. This did not help matters, as he thought back on what he had been thinking moments previously and looked back at Harry, who now had his mouth open widely and was snoring softly. He shook his head in amusement before getting up. It was time for him to head to bed. He walked into the other room and lied down, listening to the sound of Harry's even breathing as he fell into a slumber of sleep.

-

"Harry."

He groaned.

"Harry, wake up."

Muttering drowsily, he snuggled further under the blankets.

"_Harry_!"

Harry awoke, sputtering, startled. Sitting up, he yelled. "I'm up! I'm up, aunt - oh.."

He looked around to see Voldemort's face in front of his, red eyes staring at him, and had a sudden urge to scream. But as he remembered why he was here, the fear left his body, and he rubbed his eyes sleepily, and muttered. "Mornin'."

"Good morning, Harry." said Voldemort, and he smirked at the boy. "Do you often sleep with your mouth open as though catching flies?"

Harry's face went red in embarrassment. "Er.. yeah.."

Voldemort frowned. "I noticed that you were breathing heavily last night. Do you have problems with your lungs..?"

Harry squirmed, and sat up straighter, staring at his hands. "My uncle uses his hands for a lot more things than eating."

Voldemort nodded, and inquired softly, "He chokes you?"

"It never was this bad until this summer, after.. you know..." Harry shifted, uncomfortable at the subject, and Voldemort knew well what he was talking about. "He told me I was bad, that I deserved it, and he always.. he's been getting harder over the years, but this year..."

"Is that why you are so unbelieveably thin?" Asked the Dark Lord, and he lifted Harry's arms as though they were led, and rubbed a hand over the boy's cheek. There was no fat there, just bones beneath flesh, and he shook his head. "Your size is not normal for a boy your age."

"Ron's mum always tells me that." said Harry, and he gave a sad smile.

"I daresay she is right," said Voldemort and he moved the hand to lift up the boy's shirt half-way, and saw the skeletal bones close to the boy's flesh. "Your ribs are visible."

"I never get to eat much." Harry explained, as Voldemort replaced the clothing. "My cousin Dudley gets pampered by my aunt, never gets in trouble for anything, and gets to eat all that he wants. There were times they refused to feed me, even if it was for some stupid reason like not getting all of the chores done that they knew from the start I wouldn't be able to complete, so I had to sneak out of my cupboard at night and sneak -"

"_Cupboard_?" growled Voldemort, and Harry looked scared for a moment. "They put you in a _cupboard_..?"

Harry nodded. "That was my room for the first ten years of my life, until they decided to give me Dudley's second bedroom."

"Two bedrooms is more than enough for one boy." snorted the Dark Lord, and Harry laughed.

"You'd say something different if you saw the size of him!" Harry said, grinning. "He takes up a whole half of the kitchen table himself!"

But Voldemort barely heard him; He was staring at the white scars that were faintly lit along the knuckles of Harry's right hand. "What happened to your hand?" He asked, and the boy stopped grinning.

"Umbridge.." said Harry, and his fists curled as anger overtook him. "She gave me detention for claiming that you were back. Except this wasn't your average detention; She had quills that made you write with your own blood -"

"She made you self-mutilate?" Snarled the Dark Lord, and he lifted Harry's hand to get a better look. "I'd have thought that Dumbledore would intervene there, since he's against the ministry's tactics."

"He doesn't even know about it." Harry said, in a small voice. "Because I haven't told him. I haven't told anybody. I can't trust them to let word get out that I'm complaining about it.. and give her the satisfaction."

"But she's torturing you. I'd have expected the Gryffindor in you to not take that and stand up to her, or are you telling me you fear a teacher?" Voldemort found himself asking, and immediately, anger flared in Harry's eyes.

"I can't stand up to her!"

"Why not?" Sneered the Dark Lord. "You do it to everyone else. Like Snape, for instance."

"He's different! He -"

"You know that he cannot physically harm you, although he emotionally beats you down," said Voldemort, eyes softening in understanding. "Yes."

Harry sighed, and looked away. "I'm too weak to stand up to anyone. I can't even stand up to my Muggle relatives! I let them beat me and put me down, and make no damned effort to stop it! I know I deserve it all, and I'm too weak to stand up to them even if I had the guts to -"

"_Harry_," said Voldemort roughly, and he steered Harry around by the shoulder so that they regained eyecontact. "Listen to me, and listen good."

Harry made a move to turn back around, but Voldemort gripped his jaw in one hand, and Harry was forced to look at him. "You are not weak, Harry! I've seen that these last fifteen years!"

"All of those times were luck, and because people were there to help me!" said Harry angrily, trying to get out of Voldemort's stone grip, but the Dark Lord would not budge.

"You know that's a lie," said Voldemort calmly. "You've done well on your own, at your age; Most children would not know how to cast a Stunnng spell, but you.. you've achieved so much more. You've fought Dementors, and killed a Basilisk, which I did not appreciate at the time, but to me, that is skill! How many other fifteen-year-olds have you seen achieve the success you have?"

"You did!" Harry blurted out, and Voldemort released him in shock. "You had great success, even at sixteen!"

"Yes, but I chose to throw it away," said Voldemort, "and what I did as dark magic.."

"Still, it's an accomplishment!" argued Harry. "You're one of the greatest wizards of all time, and not just because you use dark magic; it's because of the things you did when you were younger, and the success you achieved at such a young age!"

Voldemort watched him, and knew Harry was right. Again, he had been slapped in the face by reality, and this time it was for what he had let get away from him. His choices, his mistakes, had brought him here, and he, and he alone, was responsible for the man he had become. Not Harry, not a prophecy - his choices. The choice to make himself feared rather than respected had been his own fault, brought on by the potential he had since considered just stepping stones for his dark path. Had it all been worth it..?

He said nothing more for a moment before he stood abruptly, and Harry watched him. "You may be right, but I chose to ignore that potentional, Harry. I advise you not to let it get away from you, and take it, before it's too late."

He left the room, leaving Harry's mind racing at what his words meant, and the impact of which they could make.

-

Oooh, we have a softening Dark Lord here! Does he even know himself?

You'll have to wait and see.

Don't expect this weak! or vulnerable! Voldy around for TOO long, though. Just long enough for Harry to notice. ;)

- Tainted Visions


	15. Just Like A Pill

**In Sleep He Sang To Me**

**Summary: When a stressful fifth year at Hogwarts arises, Harry Potter uses the old diary of his nemesis to relieve some of the stress. What he doesn't know is that the mind connection between himself and Voldemort grows ever stronger, and a curse has been placed upon the diary to fufil the writer's thoughts, and allow only bad things to happen.**

**A/N: Another gift for you all... **

**- **

**"I can't stay on your life support, there's a shortage in the switch. I can't stay on your morphine, 'cause its making me itch. I think I'll get out of here, where I can run just as fast as I can. To the middle of nowhere. To the middle of my frustrated fears. And I swear, you're just like a pill; Instead of makin' me better, you keep makin' me ill. You keep makin' me ill." - Just Like A Pill, Pink.**

-

**Chapter 15: Just Like A Pill**

Harry and Voldemort had a short breakfast that morning shortly after Harry had awoken. At first, Harry was sure Voldemort would resist talking to him, but as the hours passed, he was speaking again, seemingly forgetting all about that morning's discussions. Harry had finished eating his eggs and toast in silence when Voldemort had spoken to him.

"I see you were hungry."

Harry nodded. "Yes. Thanks a lot."

Voldemort nodded, and looked down at his own plate. "I've never had much of an appetite."

At Harry's raised eyebrows, he shook his head. "You forget that I am no longer a child, Harry; I do not need much food to savor energy. My magical influences come from my mind stregnth, and I can still have a lot of energy even if I am deprieved of sleep as much as a week. Sometimes longer."

"Wow." said Harry in astonishment, and not knowing what else to say, looked down at his clean plate.

Voldemort got up and lifted his plate, and motioned for Harry to give him his, to which Harry obediently obliged. "In a little while, I want you to go back, Harry. They're probably in a panic by now."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "But.. but I thought.." His voice was filled with hurt.

"If you stay here any longer, they'll know something's up!" Snapped Voldemort, unable to bear the emotion in the boy's voice as he whirled around to face him, and Harry flinched in reaction. Immediately, Voldemort sighed, and lowered his voice. "They'll put two-and-two together, Harry. Then you'll be forbidden to ever come here again. You don't want that, do you?"

"No.." said Harry at once, and he gave a small sigh and stood. "You're right.."

Voldemort took a few steps closer to him and placed his hands on the boy's shoulders, and Harry looked up him. "Just remember what I said before, Harry: They can't make you do anything. They can't force you to be who they expect and want. Only you can."

Harry nodded, and reached down for his shoes. He slipped them on and stood again, eyes still staring at the floor. "What if things get worse..?"

"If things get too unbearable for you," said Voldemort slowly. "Then I want you to write in the diary. Just let out your feelings, your fears, your frustrations; I have some other things I need to attend to today.."

Immediately, there was a grief-stricken look on Potter's face. "Oh.. oh.. okay.."

There was a pang of something like guilt in Voldemort's gut, and he sighed and lifted Harry's face so their eyes yet again met. "Just for today, all right? I'm going to be out. I cannot tell you where, although I will tell you in time, so I won't be here. Just hold tight, Harry. I'll be back tomorrow if you need me."

The boy nodded, and Voldemort released him. He walked to the door and opened it for Harry, and the boy slowly, and relunctanly, walked to it. Before he stepped out, he looked again into the snake-like face he had found as a refuge these last few days and smiled. "T-thanks.."

Voldemort nodded cutly, and shut the door. Harry sighed, and went down the stairs and off into the bushes, glancing back one last time as he did.

-

Though it had been reluctant, Harry had known deep inside that he could not stay at Voldemort's cabin. He kicked a pebble near his foot and it soared into the stream of water just a foot away from him. Sitting down, he gazed at it; There were small ripples, and he watched them until his eyes teared up, reliving the past few days. Everything seemed to have fallen away - the hatred he felt at other man, the fear, everything; He should not have let his vulnerability get in the way of that. He should not have let Voldemort feed off of it like a sickness, either; All it was doing was increasing his power, and there was no chance in hell Voldemort actually cared about his situation and the feelings he was experiencing.

Tears were running down his face like running water, freezing, but he did not wipe them away, as he sat out staring at the horizon, with the creak of water just in front of him. He could see the school from here, and wondered if anyone would be coming out to look for him.

He was scared, terrified, after what he had done, to go back; If he did, what did he have? He doubted Ron and Hermione would forgive him, and he doubted anyone else would make this whole thing easier for him. What scared him more was the fact that he had been running to the enemy, and betrayed everything that was right. Would his parents aprove of this, be proud of the fact he had been going to the person who killed them?

But no one was making this any easier; No one tried to listen to him, or allowed themselves to care. Dumbledore was so caught up in himself, and Snape wouldn't care for his problems; Ron and Hermione would just tell him to cheer up, and Sirius would assure him it was nothing to worry about. And he needed more than that. He needed more than just empty words of reassurance. He needed to _feel_ it. He needed to _feel _that everything would be all right, that they would get better, and he just didn't feel that with them. With Voldemort, he did. Why, he couldn't explain, but it just felt so right, so perfect.

He saw now what Voldemort was - he was the person he ran to when things were bad, and he was the person that had brought upon all of that misery. He was living off his power, and Voldemort was feeding off his weakness. The cancer was spreading inside them both, the sickness destroying them both from the inside out, like a poision, a venom; He needed a cure for the itch. The Dark Lord was his sickness, not his antidote, and it kept making him only sicker, not better.

But did he care anymore if he ever got better? As long as he didn't have to feel the symptoms, did he care anymore if the illness was ever fully healed, eradicated? No, he realized. He didn't. As long as he could put off the pain, he didn't care if it ever went away. If he could illusion himself with comfort with just a little while, he wouldn't have to focus on the hurt. He was just running away, away from the fate that was now in the front of his mind ever since Dumbledore had told him. Perhaps that was what he tried not to think about, the burden of knowing he must kill another man or die himself. Did he have the courage, the will-power, to kill the man he hated who had become his refuge or let himself die at his hands? How did you make a choice?

He always thought that killing someone was just words, a pointless thought, something not really capable, but he had never seen murder in front of eyes, and when Cedric was killed, those barriers had fallen away, although he had refused to admit it, then. He'd been in shock, putting it off like everything else, choosing not to talk or think about it, because it had been easier. But now..

Now, things were different. There was no pretending, or turning away. He had to face it, his destiny, what ever pain that was coming - because he had always known there would be more - although it was the hardest thing he had to do. He had to stop running to Voldemort and get a grip on his life, take control of his weakness, sheild them before he let the enemy see them.

But hadn't Voldemort already seen it, and played on it like a serpent under an innocent flower, the facaded snake waiting to strike?

Wiping the tears away, Harry got slowly to his feet, now realizing that his ears were cold and freezing. Shivering, he stumbled to the castle, not knowing what he would find inside, only knowing that Dumbledore had been right about one thing:

One day, he had to make a choice between what was right, and what was easy. Today was that day.

And he chose to do what was right.

-

**Sorry for such a short chap. The BIG chap's coming up, so wanted to finish this first, and do the next one, so I can get to the good chap. Hope you liked it, nevertheless. **

**- Tainted Visions**


	16. Broken

**In Sleep He Sang To Me**

**Summary: When a stressful fifth year at Hogwarts arises, Harry Potter uses the old diary of his nemesis to relieve some of the stress. What he doesn't know is that the mind connection between himself and Voldemort grows ever stronger, and a curse has been placed upon the diary to fufil the writer's thoughts, and allow only bad things to happen.**

**A/N: Hehe, the build-up for the biggest chap of all.. ;) **

**- **

**"'Cause I'm broken when I'm open. And I don't feel like I am strong enough. 'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome. And I don't feel right when you're gone away..." Broken, Seether and Amy Lee (Evanescence)**

**- **

**Chapter 16: Broken**

Harry pulled open the large castle doors, hands shaking and stepped inside. There was no one in the halls, which he found as a blessed relief, and walked forward until he reached the Great Hall, taking the most hesitant of steps. Peering from behind the wall, Harry saw only a few people sitting inside; That must mean most people were still asleep, since it was Saturday, and there were no classes. He swallowed saliva, and was about to head in, when a voice spoke out and he jumped, turning. Snape was standing a few feet from him, holding a glass and watching him with those black eyes, expressionless. "Finally come back?"

Harry looked to the floor, unresponsive, quite unable to look the older man in the face, and nodded.

He felt the other man shift, and lifted his head slightly just enough for a glance; Snape was closer to him now, and his arm was extended as he placed it on Harry's shoulder. Harry felt awkward with the hand of his professor on his shoulder, but he did not remove it or flinch underneath it as he probably would have a few weeks ago. Things had changed between them since then. "You have nothing to fear, Harry. No one is mad at you."

"But Hermione," said Harry in a croak, as he finally raised his head completely and allowed himself to stare Snape in the eyes, "Hermione.. she.. I hurt her, I.."

Snape shook his head. "She understands why you did it. Granger is a very perceptive girl, and very loyal, too. She has forgiven you, and she hopes you have forgiven yourself."

Harry swallowed, trying to hold back tears. "And.. and Ron?"

Snape grimaced. "Weasley, though dimwitted and idiotic as he sometimes is, is a little hesitant, Harry. But Dumbledore and myself spoke with him, and he is willing to make amends. I suggest you go up and talk to them. Don't turn them away. They need you, Harry, as you need them. Don't give up what you have. We'll listen to you, and I hope you know that. You can come to me, or Dumbledore, or even your Godfather. We're all here for you."

When Harry did not respond, Snape sighed and removed his hand. "I know I've been cruel to you in the past, Harry, and made life miserable for you.. I just.."

"You closed yourself off after my mother died." said Harry in a small voice, finding his voice again. "Yes, I know. I understand, sir. You didn't want to be hurt again. I think you withdrew from being close to me because you couldn't bear to lose the only reminder you had of Lily. My mom."

At Snape's face filled with emotion, Harry felt a pang of guilt, and looked away. He'd had said the wrong thing. "So.. sorry, sir." he whispered weakly, and wanted to leave.

He heard Snape sniffle slightly, "You don't need to be, Harry. I am the one who is sorry. I am the sole reason your mother had to die."

"It wasn't you," said Harry, anger flaring inside of him. "It was me. I got my mother killed, not you. I know you'd have rather die than take the life of the only woman you ever loved. You're not to blame, sir. The fault is mine, for being born in the first place. I got my parents killed."

"Don't you say that!" said Snape in a cross voice suddenly, resentment masking his harsh face. "Don't you dare say that!"

"It's the truth!" snarled Harry in retort. "I'm to blame for everyone who's had to die. Why couldn't I have just died when I was supposed to? Why couldn't I be lying with my parents, the way it was supposed to be. If it weren't for me, my mom wouldn't have had to step in front of me and be dead! I know you know that, and so do I! I'm the one who got her killed. Voldemort offered her a chance, and she wouldn't take it because he wanted me!"

"Of course she didn't take it! She loved you, Harry! You were her son, the blood in her veins! She wasn't going to let him kill you!" growled Snape.

"I wish she would have!" Harry shouted, and tears slid down his face as the burden of guilt overwhelmed him again. "I wish she would have let me die. I wish no one would try to protect me because all I do is get them killed!"

Harry slumped to the floor, tears still flowing down his face.

Snape sighed and lowered himself so that they were eye-level, speaking gently. "Let it out, Harry. This is what I was talking about - you can come to me when you feel guilty and upset."

Harry nodded and wiped the tears off his face. "I just... sometimes, it's not enough. To write it.."

Snape nodded curtly. "I understand."

They sat there for a few moments before the sound of movement overrode the floor. Snape looked up and stood. "Your friends are coming, Harry."

As Snape moved away from him, Harry got slowly to his feet, and met Ron and Hermione. All three stopped, simply staring at eachother, trying to message the other through subtle eye-contact.

"Hi." said Ron slowly, looking away.

"Hi.." said Harry in barely a whisper, looking down at the soles of his trainers; He felt so guilty.

"Harry.."

He barely looked up, but he twitched his head to show that he was listening. "Hermione..I'm.."

"I understand, Harry." she said quietly, and he raised his head now. "I knew something was going on with you. I know you can't talk to us. Friends forgive eachother, and Harry, I've forgiven you."

Harry felt tears well in his eyes, and wiped them away. "T-thank you.."

"Of course, Mate," said Ron, and he smiled, "We'll be there for you no matter what. If you want to talk, come to me or Hermione; We'll listen to you. I thought you knew that all along, mate.."

Harry almost blushed, but he looked up into his friends' faces and felt the weight upon him lift. "I know. I know it now. Thanks so much, guys.."

They smiled, and Hermione crossed her arms with a tight smirk. "Are we going to sit here all day or are we going to get some breakfast?"

At Ron's raised eyebrows, Harry laughed. Everything felt.. better.

-

Harry had a great night that night. Firstly, since it was the weekend, that meant no classes, and he enjoyed himself with the idea that he didn't have to wake up early in the morning. He'd stayed up late, playing Wizard Chess with Ron, feeling as though things were like they used to, back when he was eleven, and he didn't want to let that happiness go.

He awoke the same morning feeling the same way, and when Ron and Hermione awoke and insisted having breakfast, he gladly agreed to join them.

They walked into the Great Hall and sat down, picking out things to eat. Harry, though having a huge appetite and large plate, picked at his food; It had been twenty-four hours since he had seen Voldemort. Remembering this, Harry thought back on the wizard; He'd told Harry he'd had to go somewhere, hadn't he? So where had he gone? He'd even told him that he would tell him where, which Harry hadn't expected.

Quite suddenly, he felt a deep emptiness inside of him, and frowned as Hermione and Ron laughed along with the other Gryffindors. Though things had been mended between the three of them and everyone else, he still felt something was missing, and he knew what that something was.

As much as he had tried to deny it, he knew he couldn't; Voldemort was the one who made him feel, made him feel feelings such as hapiness, anger, sadness; He'd made him feel so alive, more alive than he had ever felt, more aware of his own body and mind than he could ever recall feeling in years. He never felt more alive than he did when he was with Voldemort. As unlikely as the thought may have always seemed to him.

He barely heard when Hermione called his name.

"Harry?"

He looked up, shaking his head. "Yeah?"

"You know O.W.L's are only twelve weeks away, right?" She inquired, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

Harry grinned. "Hermione, we've got loads of time to study."

She looked affronted. "Yes, but it doesn't hurt to start early. This is our most important year, we have to pass these to get to -"

"Hermione, calm down!" Chuckled Ron. "Harry's right, there's plenty of time to prepare."

She huffed. "Yes, perhaps. I, however, am starting tonight. You can never be prepared enough."

"Look, how's this:" said Ron in a sudden business-like voice, "We start next week, and.."

While Ron and Hermione continuded to bicker back and forth, Harry lost himself again in his thoughts. He closed his eyes with a sigh, when his scar suddenly gave a painful twinge. He winced and rubbed it, turning away from his friends so they could not see him doing so. Opening them and then re-closing them, he focused on the incoming scene.

_There was the sounds of crying, a high-pitched noctune of sobs; His skeletal hands lowered the wand clutched in his fist, as red eyes encompassed the woman lying beneath him, black hair concealing her face, and body withering on the floor. His eyes turned to a man standing just before the woman, whose head was bowed and hands over his stomach, as though praying. A sneer lit the snake-like features, and Voldemort eyed the blonde man with dissatisfaction._

_"Still you have not aquired it, Lucius?" Voldemort growled in a drawl voice. _

_Lucius bowed to him, shoulders tense. "Not yet, my Lord. The Order got there before us yet again."_

_"Those Order members are beginning to become an annoying nucisance to me." said Voldemort silkily, and Lucius's shoulders unstiffened. "However, Lucius, if I were you I would not consider myself repreived; You will be punished, and soon. I will come again next week, and should you get it before then, you will be rewarded. However, should you fail..."_

_His red eyes moved past Lucius, to the withering woman on the floor. "You shall be punished." he finished. "Bella, get up."_

_The sobbing woman lifted her head and slowly got to her feet, eyes turned upon Voldemort. "My Lord - you.. you are merciful.."_

_Voldemort considered her, red eyes shining. "Don't fail me again. Tell the others that as well, Lucius. Or else all will feel my wrath."_

_"Yes, my Lord Voldemort." bowed Lucius, and he exited the room, Bellatrix at his heels. Voldemort turned away, and began to inspect his fingers._

_"How I long to touch you, Harry.." he whispered, hands cradling tenderly as though imagining he could feel Harry's soft hair beneath his fingers. "I long for more than that. I know you know it. I know you feel the same.. I can feel you, and I know you feel me. I want you, Harry..."_

_Voldemort's hand formed into a fist as Harry exited his mind. _

Harry pulled out of the other's mind, his own swimming madly. He felt the incredible urge to be sick, and his scar was pulsing painfully. He got up, shaking, in need of a toilet. Immediately. He was about to walk off when Hermione spoke to him.

"Harry? Harry, where are you going? What's wrong? You're shaking madly." She too got up, and Ron followed her.

"I feel sick." said Harry in a gasp, as the breakfast he had this morning began to disagree with his stomach. "I think I'm gonna.."

He had no time to stop it as vomit poured out of his mouth onto the Great Hall floors. Students attending breakfast turned their heads, as Harry began to dizzy; He felt so sick, and his head was spinning unremorsefully. He stumbled through the doorway and was barely aware of Ron and Hermione following and calling his name. His vision blurred, darker into light, lighter into dark, and his heart began to speed rapidly, everything dimming around him. Sweat was pouring down the back of his neck and onto his shirt, and he felt as though he were burning in a fire, flames all around him, and struggled to breathe. His knees gave way underneath him and he fell to the floor, hardly feeling the impact his head hit upon it.

The last thing he saw before he blacked out was Ron and Hermione's faces of confusion and fear, and a high, cold voice whispering his name.

_"Harry.."_

**-**

_"How I long to touch you, Harry.." _

_He felt cold hands along his thighs and groaned. "I...I want to touch you, too.."_

_The hands crept along his stomach, and up his shirt. "I long for more than that. I know you know it. I know you feel the same.. I can feel you, and I know you feel me. I want you, Harry..."_

_Harry threw his head back, eyes closing as Voldemort's tounge ran along his neck, and whispered throatily, "I want you too..."_

He awoke abruptly, sheets wrapped around him like a straight-jacket and breathing heavily.

Looking around, he realized he was in his bed in Gryffindor tower, and he turned his head to see Hermione and Ron staring at him with concern.

"How you feeling, mate?" Ron asked.

"F-fine. What.. what happened?" Harry whispered, as his head gave a painful throb. He put his hands to it and massaged it.

"You passed out." said Hermione in a small, gentle voice. "Did you have.. did you have a vision?"

"Yeah." said Harry, removing his hands. "Voldemort's mad because his death eaters haven't retrieved something yet."

"You don't think it's the weapon?" Asked Hermione in a shrill voice as she turned to Ron, who gave a puzzled look. "The weapon Voldemort's after?"

"Could be!" said Ron, eyes widening in comprehension. "But why would You-Know-Who let Harry see into his mind? You didn't see anything else, did you, Harry?"

"No." said Harry, stumped. "All I saw was the vision he sent me, nothing more. I don't know why he would let me see it so willingly though, unless he doesn't know the connection exists."

_No, that can't be true,_ thought Harry. _He knows it's there, he's using it to play with my head. _

"Oh yeah, he's going to check back next week to see if they have it." Informed Harry, and Ron and Hermione paled.

"You should go to Dumbledore, Harry, while this vision is raw and fresh. Half-an-hour is enough time to recollect it." said Hermione slowly. "After all...next week.. that's not long for the Order to prepare."

Harry nodded. "All right, I'll go tell Dumbledore." His scar was hurting again, and he felt a hint of annoyance somewhere in his gut, although he couldn't quite relate it to his own feelings. He got up, but Hermione seized his wrist, stopping him.

"Wait, don't you want to wait until you're a little stronger? You're awfully weak, and pale, and.."

"I'm fine." said Harry shortly, the annoyance coming stronger. "Look, I'll be back, okay? Dumbledore needs to know about this."

Hermione released his wrist and nodded. "We'll be up here. Tell us what Dumbledore says!"

"I will." said Harry, and he gave her a small smile, and nodded at Ron, who repeated the maneuver. "See you guys in a few!"

He scampered from the room, walking through the castle at a high-speed. He was about to round the corner to head torwards Dumbledore's office when a hand got him first around the throat. Gasping, knowing who's hand this belonged to, Harry wrapped his own around it, trying to pry it from his throat as he was dragged behind the corner.

Before he knew it, he had been forced against the wall, eyes blurry from the lack of oxygeon. The hand released second's later, and Harry choked as he struggled to breathe.

"Want to inform Dumbledore, do you?" Sneered Voldemort, eyes glinting in exstacy.

"Yeah," Harry growled, "I thought this might be a good thing for him to know!"

Voldemort snorted. "Tell him and let him play with your destiny again, with your feelings?"

Harry, who had opened his mouth to retort, suddenly closed it, silence engulfing him. Voldemort seemed pleased by this and jerked his head in the direction of the Gargoyle. "That old fool will play you like a video game, Potter. He's using this connection between us for his own selfish needs, so then he can rip me away from you. Do you still want that?"

Harry did not respond, and instead looked down at his trainers. Voldemort spoke again.

"Do you want to let them hurt you again, because that's all they're going to do. They care not about you, your feelings, your life. What you saw.. isn't that what you _really_ want, Harry?"

Voldemort lifted his hands and brushed Harry's bangs over, and Harry felt excitement rush up his spine. "Yes.. yes, I want that.."

"I know you do." said Voldemort quietly, and leaned his head forward and nibbled at Harry's ear, to which Harry did not protest. "I know. I told you I'd see you today, didn't I..?"

"Y-yes.." said Harry quietly, as he lifted his neck as Voldemort moved his head across it. "I knew you were telling the truth.."

Voldemort smirked. "Yes, Harry.."

He gnawed at Harry's neck, and Harry welcomed the feeling as blood oozed from the bite. "I want to.. stay with you.."

"Of course, Harry.." spoke the Dark Lord quietly, and he wrapped his arms around Harry's waist. "You can stay with me.."

And then Voldemort turned on the spot, as bright green light filled Harry's eyelids, and he closed them against it. Suffocation was overwhelming him, and just when he thought he would die, it stopped. Opening his eyes, he realized he was no longer in the hall of Hogwarts - he was in Voldemort's cabin. The hand around his waist loosened, and he knew Voldemort was still with him. He hadn't left him.

Harry looked up, and saw the diary in the Dark Lord's hand. The red eyes glinted, and the skeletal hand extended his arm, holding the book for him to take. Harry obliged, and stared into Voldemort's eyes and smiled. No one could give him the happiness Voldemort could. He knew that now. Something told him he had always known it.

"Thank you."

-

Oh yeah, Voldy didn't Disapparate, since there's anti-disapparation jinxes in Hogwarts - he used the diary. Just thought I'd clear that up in case anyone's confused.

Next chapter is the BIG one. It is not for young kids.. YES, you heard it here: Voldy/Harry do the DEED! XD

Enjoy!

- Tainted Visions


	17. Iris

**In Sleep He Sang To Me**

**Summary: When a stressful fifth year at Hogwarts arises, Harry Potter uses the old diary of his nemesis to relieve some of the stress. What he doesn't know is that the mind connection between himself and Voldemort grows ever stronger, and a curse has been placed upon the diary to fufil the writer's thoughts, and allow only bad things to happen.**

**A/N: HEHEHE, hope you all REALLY like this one! It's down and DIRTY!**

**Also: This was my first time writing a sex scene, much less sex-slash scene.. hope I did okay, and appeased any of you slash fans out there.. XD! **

**-**

**"And I'd give up forever to touch you, 'cause I know that you feel me somehow. You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be, and I don't want to go home right now. And all I can taste is this moment; And all I can breathe is your life. 'Cause sooner or later it's over.. I just don't want to miss you tonight.." Iris, Goo Goo Dolls.**

-

**Chapter 17: Iris**

Harry snuggled closer to the man whose arms he was wrapped in, eyes falling tiredly. It was evening now, the sun beating upon the earth, and he could see the sunlight burning through the windows. He knew it had been hours, many hours by now from which he had told Hermione and Ron that he would be back, but he did not care; What had happened previously that day felt like a dream now, a bad one, and now he was living the one he had always wanted, wrapped in the arms of someone who cared for him. He raised his head to look the Dark Lord in the face, and Voldemort lowered his eyes to meet his, red and forceful, but there was a gentleness to them, now, no longer plastered with that auro of death they usually enamated.

As the cold hand ran through his soft hair, Harry closed his eyes, for once welcoming the soft slumber of sleep, the low noctune that was Voldemort. The song he had never played before as he slept, but did now; The song had become his lullaby, the only thing that would or could put him to sleep. Once again, he was hearing the words of which Voldemort had told him before:

_"You've become my noctune, and I can't sleep if I'm forced to last a day without you.."_

_"I can't either.."_

He opened his eyes, imagining he could hear the voice somewhere other than inside him. Without knowing why, he whispered, "Can you hear it..?"

"Mmm?" Grunted the Dark Lord, and he looked at the boy as Harry lifted his head to stare up at him, green eyes reflected into red.

"Can you hear it..? Inside me? That thing which you spoke of? Can someone else hear it besides just me..?" Harry asked softly and slowly, eyes shining for the answer he hoped Voldemort could and would give him.

As the boy's eyes searched his face unrelentingly, Voldemort almost looked away under the intensity, but he forced himself to stare back at Harry, and nodded. "I can hear it like a song inside you, Harry. I've always heard it. I could hear when your mind gave that cry of sadness or of anger; I could hear when you were happy, pleasure surrounding you; I could hear when you wanted and needed more than what you had, that desperation inside of you; I hear it, Harry. Loud and clear. I am the only one who can hear. This can only be shared between the two of us, this gift. Not even Dumbledore can hear it."

Harry's eyes teared up from staring at Voldemort's face for so long, and he forced them back and nodded, sighing and leaning back against Voldemort's chest. "I'm glad no one else can. I don't want anyone else but you to hear.."

"Yes, Harry." said the Dark Lord softly, and he leaned his neck and kissed Harry's cheek, and Harry reveled in the feeling his lips made against his cheek. "No one can hear anything you hide from them."

Harry leaned his head back as Voldemort moved down to his neck, planting kisses on the lean bones, eyes closing. "I-I know. I know you're right.."

"You do?" asked Voldemort in a low hiss, and he gnawed at Harry's neck. "Prove it to me.."

Harry hissed in response as Voldemort's cold hands slid down the boy's shirt, trailing along the skin of his back. "I..."

"Show me you believe me, Harry.." The hands were moving sideways along his abs, coming to a stop at his navel. Harry shivered from the touch and opened his eyes again to find the Dark Lord's face right beside his, the man's head lying directly on his shoulder. "Show me.."

Something wet brushed against Harry's ear, and he felt an erotic sensation rush up his spine as he realized it was Voldemort's tounge. He twisted his neck, cracking it, destroying the tensions he had built up the last few days as Voldemort's hands continued to prowl furtherly downward. Harry gave a slight gasp as the hands reached the top of his pants, and his eyes widened with the realization of what Voldemort expected of him. So he wanted him to get down and dirty, did he?

He turned his head torwards the Dark Lord, whose face was inches from his own, noses barely touching, each breathing the other in like air. The man's eyes were drowing his like water, and Harry's eyes burned with an inward passion he could not explain, but welcomed. "I'll show you.."

He raised his own hands and ran them over Voldemort's face, a little hesitant at first, as he didn't know how the Dark Lord would react; But the man did not stop him, so Harry continued, eventually cupping both cheeks in his hands, just feeling the sense of awareness he was recieving by the sensation of touch. Voldemort smirked, and pushed his face forward. They were so close they might as well be akin to the other, eachother's bodies pressed into the other, and at the awkward angle they were sitting at, Harry's right side was beginning to go numb, but he did not care; The elder wizard pushed his serpent-like tounge into Harry's mouth, and licked at the inner walls, and Harry responded back just as passionately, returning the kiss desperately. They sat there for moments just drinking in the other's saliva and want, and Harry could no longer feel the pain on his side anymore he was so lost inside it.

Voldemort gently leaned on top of the teen and pryed him onto the couch by a mere push of his weight, the kiss still intact, both still lost inside it. The Dark Lord's hands were still claspsed at the top of Harry's jeans and he pulled them down with an aggressive growl as the kiss finally broke apart. Immediately upon it, Harry's eyes widened as cold air rushed up his legs. He could feel the clothing against his bare legs, and he yearned for the feeling Voldemort's skin would make upon his own flesh.

Gasping and panting, struggling to keep himself under control, Harry leaned up and bit at the Dark Lord's lips ferociously, keen to show Voldemort just how much he believed the other man's words. His tounge danced behind his lips, struggling to get out, and soon he had no choice, unable to control his pleasure, and shoved it into Voldemort's mouth, who returned it just as Harry had done.

Keeping Voldemort tamed, Harry growled and tugged at Voldemort's robes, tearing them along the side, the stitch revealing the side of the Dark Lord's chest and left leg. Voldemort broke the kiss apart, realizing, and grinned at the boy beneath him, and Harry was amazed at the look inside Voldemort's red eyes, now; They were filled with need and want, and though Harry had never seen that kind of look of vulnerability inside the Dark Lord, he sought to take the most advantage of it.

Hissing, Harry again tugged at the Dark Lord's robes, growling as it failed to come off. Voldemort smirked at the boy's attempt, and ripped at them himself, exposing his clear, tight-skined chest. The man leaned forward, hovering over Harry as they lay against one another, both now completely nude and more exposed and vulnerable than they could have ever imagined finding eachother.

The break didn't last long, however, when Voldemort gave a tight growl, and rubbed his hands all along the back of Harry's neck, again moving downward, this time with an increase of speed, causing Harry to jump at how tingly his hands were against his skin. He gave a small gasp of laughter as the hands tickled his back, running along his spine before the man's hands were wrapped completely around Harry's waist in a tight embrace.

Harry groaned, eyes opening, green reflection shining with pleasure, wanting more, and Voldemort noticed with the most apparent of ease. He tossed the boy over onto his side, both of them falling off the couch as their bodies crashed together, and Harry gave a yelp of pain as his backside hit the floor. Panting in seduction, Voldemort again kissed the boy passionately, forceful and hard, ignoring Harry's now annoying groans of pain and discomfort. He continued, wanting to feel every bit of Harry's mouth, every wet little part, his tounge running along the sharp teeth, tasting even the most narrow parts. As Harry's own tounge ran inside Voldemort's mouth, the Dark Lord gnawed at it, the pink flesh tearing like scissors on paper as blood oozed gingerly from Harry's tounge.

The boy retracted, blood dripping from his red lips, green eyes shining even more still, and Voldemort's nostrils flared. He sucked at the blood, closing his own eyes now at the taste of Harry's life, the venom of the heart that was keeping the boy alive, the poision running through both their veins like the lust inside them.

His need growing, Voldemort growled and wrapped his hands around Harry's bare waist, lifting the boy until he was seated on his lap. He ran his hands along the boy's slightly tense shoulders, and Harry's stress lossened immediately. "Do you want this, Harry..?"

Harry grunted hurriedly in response, and Voldemort went for it.

The boy gave a pained shout as Voldemort thrust into him hard, and eyes dialated as burning erupted throughout his whole inside, his very being. He spread his legs, trying to ease the pain, but it only grew worse, and he cried out as it shoved in harder, wanting for it to stop, but at the same time, unable to say it. Voldemort exited, and Harry felt slightly guilty he hadn't responded with as much enthusiasm as he knew Voldemort would have liked. But then it came again, hitting the tingling spot inside him, and Harry groaned again, this time in pleasure; He had never imagined it would feel like this..

Satisified he had finally hit Harry's soft spot, Voldemort grunted and exited again before thrusting back in, in and out continuously, Harry giving small pants of hysteria and pleasure, sometimes screaming out in ecstacy, delight rushing all through him, and he grunted, arching his back to allow Voldemort inside him even more.

The exaltation from Voldemort, a power he had never known the Dark Lord had, overwhelmed him, like an enchantment, and when Voldemort finally exited after moments, or maybe even hours, of elation, Harry felt very much exhausted, and lied his head back against Voldemort's chest, his erection quite satisfied.

Voldemort ran his hands through Harry's hair, Harry's eyes closing as a slumber of sleep overrode him, feeling happier and more content than he had ever felt in his life.

If Voldemort had been right about one thing, it had been the truth of happiness Harry had first digested as nothing more but lies:

He made him happy, whole, complete, without pain or sorrow; He was the one thing that Harry had been missing from his life, although he had never even contemplated it at the time, blinded by the lies of a destiny that was a deceit of betrayal. He was supposed to be the hero in everyone's eyes, the one who fought and died trying, the one who gave his life up for everyone else, the one who had to suffer so everyone else could go on with their lives. Voldemort had been right.

Anger surging through him, Harry snuggled closer to the warm man's chest as Voldemort held him in his arms.

If Harry had ever wanted anything, nothing could penetrate it more than what he wanted now, and that was to never have to set foot inside the castle, or Dumbledore's office again.

-

**LOL, omg.. **

**I had some trouble writing this, stuck on how to continue, but I got it, I guess!**

**This was my first time writing a sexual scene, so yeah.. hope I did all right!**

**Things just got ten-times more complicated for Harry. He just commited the ultimate deed! He slept with the enemy! What's going to happen now that Harry's done so? **

**- Tainted Visions**


	18. Field Of Innocence

**A/N: Big change from last chappie.. XD**

**-**

**"Where has my heart gone? Trapped in the eyes of a stranger. Oh I... I want to go back to.. believing in everything..." Field of Innocence, Evanescence**

-

**Chapter 18: Field of Innocence**

Harry awoke some time later, eyes red with tiredness, exhaustion and throbbing all through his body. He blinked himself awake, realizing that he was lying on something soft, and looked down. He was clothed again, and he was lying on a large bed.

"You better be getting ready to go, Harry."

Harry blinked, and turned over. Voldemort was sitting up on his side of the bed, also clothed, and not looking at him. "Why?"

The Dark Lord gave a growl, voice cold. "Because those _people_ are in the forest looking for you."

Harry's jaw dropped open. "Dumbledore..? The Order?"

"Yes, those idiots who call themselves the Order and the old man are definately among those looking for you, as is your Godfather, and those so-called friends of your's. I suggest you go back to them. Quickly."

Harry said nothing; The truth was, he didn't feel right, remembering what happened last night, and he was suddenly wanting to leave here as fast as possible.

"But I.."

Voldemort turned to face him, features looking somewhat demented, and Harry was reminded of the reason for which he hated this man. "You must go back, Harry! You cannot stay here for days at a time, I've explained that to you! I cannot sit here and babysit. I have much more important work to do!"

Harry was abashed, betrayal flooding through him, voice filled with hurt. "I..O-okay.. I'll leave, I..."

The Dark Lord did not respond, but turned away from him. His voice was somewhat softer. "Good. Good boy."

Harry slipped on his trainers, and looked up, trying to see Voldemort's face. "Can I have the diary back..?"

There was a loud growl, and Voldemort whipped around, and Harry's vision blurred as something hard was thrown into his face and Voldemort pushed him backwards so that he hit the wooden table, his back forceful against it as he collided. "TAKE IT! NOW GET THE HELL OUT!!"

Harry jumped up so fast at the cold, high voice that he cut the exposed part of his leg on the table edge, the diary in his hand. Ignoring the massive pain, Harry ran quickly towards the opening out of the room, blood dripping rapidly from his leg onto Voldemort's grey carpet as a glass object exploded over his head, glass shattering upon the wall and small shards of it falling onto his hair. Once he was near the door, he looked back; Voldemort was still turned away from him, breathing heavily, body shaking. Harry's heart thundering in his chest from fear, he wrenched the door open and fled down the steps, running through the forest, until he couldn't run anymore and sat down in the dirt, shaking the glass off of his head and rubbing his sore back, his leg searing painfully as it continued to bleed.

Lifting his pants leg to get a better look, he winced as it gave a huge throb, blood decorating his fingers. The diary still clutched safely in his hand, Harry rumaged inside his jeans pocket for the pen, and took it out, breathing coming in pained pants. "Reparo."

The diary flickered green, but nothing seemed to happen; His leg was still bleeding profusely, pain running up his spine from where he had hit his back, and he felt it give out. Panicked, Harry tried again. Again, nothing.

"Come on, you piece of shit, work!" He snarled, and he flung the diary from his hand, flying onto the patch of leaves a few feet from his feet. Letting out a small sob, Harry wrapped his arms around himself, the cold making him shiver. Voldemort had said there were people looking for him, but was that a lie, like everything else, it seemed? Wiping the tears on his sleeve, he stood, trying his best to stand despite his bad leg. Moments later, however, he collapsed to the ground, unable to support his weight upon the wounded body part.

Crying out, he wrapped his hands around it, trying to stop the amount of blood, but it would not stop; He felt he must have lost a pint already, and it was only coming faster, his vision beginning to flicker in and out. Lying down upon the earth, he stared up into the blue sky, hoping to die here. There was no other way; He could not get up and find his way back to the castle, and Voldemort had thought he left, so he would not come out back here to Harry's aid. Assuming the man wasn't lying about the Order, would they get here in time to save him? Would he be left to die by the people he depended on for years to never let that happen? Would they let him down, too, now, like Voldemort had just done?

He felt the blood seeping endlessly from the wound, and his eyes rolled in his head as everything faded away, into darkness. There was a voice suddenly, and an arm that grabbed at his arms, and he thought this must be death calling him finally, taking him to Heaven; Smiling slightly, the thought of those he would join, and was prepared to see them when he did.

-

"Harry?"

He was hurting all over, pain so intense he didn't want to open his eyes..

"Harry, wake up."

His eyes were shut tight, tears forming around the edges from the pain. "No.. please.."

"Harry!"

The sharp voice made him awaken. Eyes snapping open, he saw the face of his Godfather Sirius Black above his, and the man sighed in relief.

"Oh, Harry. Thank God. We thought you were.." He gulped, and wrapped his arms around Harry's neck. "I'm just glad you're all right.."

Harry wrapped his hands around his Godfather's arms, and smiled. "I'm okay, Sirius. What.. where am I..?"

"The school, of course!" said a voice, and Harry looked behind his godfather to see Dolores Umbridge, fake smile and all staring at him. His stomach twisted, and his eyebrows narrowed. How dare she..?

Everyone in the room (whom he noticed now) seemed disturbed by her, and Snape and Dumbledore even exchanged annoyed looks before the woman in pink approached Harry's bed, smiling serenly. "How are you, Harry, dear?"

Trying his best not to sound mean, he twitched his lips into a fake smile as big as hers and replied. "Fine, thank you. And you?"

"I'm great, thank you, dear." Her fake smile was so wide now that her crooked teeth were showing. "We, that is to say everyone here, including myself, are glad you know you are all right. We all thought something.. _horrid_ had happened to you.. we thought you had hurt yourself in some way.."

Harry smirked. "Yeah, you had no idea of knowing if I self-mutilated. After all, I'm crazy, aren't I, since obviously there's no one around to attack me. I'm just a nameless target."

"Finally you see it!" She nodded her head in approval, and turned away, and Harry took the chance to make a face behind her, which earned a chuckle from Dumbledore and Sirius and a stony look from Snape, who was glaring in the woman's direction, seemingly annoyed by what she had said as well. "I must be going. Loads to do, loads to do.."

"Does that include making kids mutilate themselves by having them write on thier hands with their own blood?" Harry asked in a fake, innocent voice, and Umbridge turned to him, still wearing that fake smile.

"Oh, Harry, dear; I think you must have sustained a blow to the head. Get some rest, now. Do take care of him, Dumbledore," She put on a sorrowed look just as fake as her smile, "the poor boy's suffered so much from a Dark Lord that does not exist!"

Dumbledore smiled, and nodded curtly, easing the woman out the door before shuting it. He turned back around with a frown on his face, and Snape had hard eyes, still glaring at the door the woman had exited. "That evil bitch.."

"Now, Severus, language." said Dumbledore, chastising lightly, "Although I think the word.. 'snake' is appropriate here.."

Snape made no comment, and turned to Harry. "How are you feeling, Potter?"

"A little better." said Harry, moving his bandaged leg around somewhat. "My leg stopped bleeding, then?"

Severus sighed. "About that.. you lost a lot of blood, almost two pints by the time we found you. Had to give you a blood-replenishing potion, and some potions to give blood transfusions. Other than that, everything seemed to be all right. We healed a bruise that was on your back, and you had some small wounds, but we healed those easily. What I wanted to ask you was how all of this happened.."

Harry's stomach dropped. "I.. er.. well, me and Voldemort.. sort of.. got into it.."

"Sort of?" Inquired Snape. "You mean you and the Dark Lord had an encounter?"

"More than one." Mumbled Harry to himself, before speaking aloud. "Oh, yeah. I was in the forest. Forgot where I was going after all that happened, and then.. we started fighting, and -"

"You mean you left school just after you told your friends you were going to see the Headmaster?" Asked Snape, and Harry knew he had caught on quite easily. "After hours, too? I know you're lying, Harry; I can see it in your eyes."

Harry shifted. "I, er.."

"Would you prefer to do this manually or with Veritasserum?"

"You can't do that!" Growled Harry. "You did it last time, and should be in trouble for it! You can't use it on students -"

"Yes, but what Umbridge doesn't know won't hurt her." Smirked Snape. "So tell me would you like Verritasserum?"

Defeated, Harry sighed. "Voldemort kidnapped me."

"Again." said Dumbledore, and he sat closer to the edge of Harry's bed. "And what did he want, Harry?"

"He.." Harry's eyes widened. "Now I remember what I was going to tell you before I was kidnapped!" He grabbed Dumbledore's wrist, eyes wide in fear; Of course, how could he have forgotten?! "Voldemort knows the prophecy! In full context!"

Dumbledore looked shocked for a moment before shaking his head. "We must prepare, then. What happened to you is more important. What happened, and where did he take you?"

"He took me to the same place as last time, some old hut. It must be where he's staying. Anyway, he started asking me about the prophecy, and I wasn't going to tell him, so he started getting violent, and then I.."

"What, Harry?" Asked Dumbledore.

"I.. I told him!" Harry buried his face into his arms. "Like an idiot, I told him!"

There was silence, and gasps, and then arms reached and pulled his head up, revealing the tear tracks running down his face. Dumbledore was staring at him, his blue eyes sorrowed and pitious. "It's all right, Harry. He has tricked you into believing lies, and you know not what is the truth anymore. I want to assure you it is me who tells you the truth, us who loves and cares most about you. Sirius loves you, I love you, your friends love you, Severus.." He looked up at the greasy-haired man who nodded. "loves you as well. You got everyone who loves you right here, and no one can change how much you mean to us."

Harry wiped the fresh tears away, ashamed to be crying in front of all of these people. "Thank you. I.."

"No need to be, Harry." said Sirius softly, and he hugged Harry again, and Harry closed his eyes as he wrapped himself in his Godfather's arms. "It's a gift. The fact you can still feel it is truly a miracle indeed."

Harry pulled away after a moment, and smiled. "I love you. All of you."

Snape nodded, a rare smiling appearing on his face, and Harry was so entranced by it that he wanted to see more of it. "We'll leave you to rest now."

Harry nodded in thanks and snuggled himself deeper into the blankets, lying back down as everyone exited the room. A single tear fell down his cheek, and this time, he did not brush it away. He had commited the ultimate sin, sleeping with the enemy, the one who was continuing to take advantage of his emotions. Though he had tried to resist it, he had found himself again entranced with that red-eyed man whose comfort for him was more real to him than Sirius's heart-felt hugs. He couldn't explain why that was, all he knew was that it felt genuine and real, and though he knew this was where he had always belonged, what he had believed for the last four years, directed by the hatred of Voldemort and the revelation that he killed his parents and sought to kill him, seemed to have fallen away. All that he was left with was the choice of running away, putting things off when they got bad, taking the easy way out; He had always promised himself he would never do it. And he had broken it.

He had broken an allegiance with sleeping with the enemy, an alliance that was the ones he loved and those he loved him, those he was bound to protect, those he was destined to save. But how could you save and protect many other people when you could not even save or protect yourself? How did you find the ability to save others when you yourself has slipped into darkness? How could a one-man dynasty destroy the threat bigger than a hundred-thousand army? You didn't.

Now that he and Voldemort had commited the ultimate sin between two rivals, how could he possibly come back from it, choose what he wanted..?

The choice between what was right and what was easy was coming rapidly, and perhaps it was too late, and maybe having sex with the enemy was already a decision made, but all he knew and questioned was how did you make a choice when you had no idea what you wanted and believed? How did you choose between a truth and a lie, without knowing which one is deceitful and which one is genuine? There was always the chance of choosing wrong, and he could not.

He'd always been told to follow his heart, to do what he believed was right, and his heart was telling him what was right now was the man back at the cabin, the one who had been there more for him than anyone this past year. His heart, so true and right, was telling him that the one who hated him most and wanted him dead was the one he should remain loyal to. But he had doubts; Should forget about Dumbledore and everyone else and just follow his heart, or defend the ones who depended upon him and deny it?

While it was true the Wizarding World would be doomed without him, hadn't Voldemort been right? Didn't they approve of him and almost worship him because he was their ultimate savior, the 'chosen one', the one who should have died at one instead of living just to die for everyone else? Didn't they believe he had to play the hero, die trying in the attempt, give his life so others could live?

Was his life that meaningless, disposeable? Was that how everyone viewed him? Was everyone seeking to keep him alive just so his destiny could be fufilled at the right time? Was he only existing to commit the murder he knew he could never do or die himself? Was that all he was living for?

Perhaps it was.

And he wanted more than that. Much, much more than that.

He wanted more than he could ever recieve here. What he wanted was out there, and he grasped to take it.

-

Hope you liked this one! Harry's so confused still, even after Voldy injured him! And he soo lied to Dumbledore. Well, not about the prophecy bit, but everything else.. XD


	19. Crawling Back To You

**A/N: Finally, an update:)**

**- **

**"Banging on your front door, my pride spilled on the floor. My hands and knees are bruised, and I'm crawling back to you. Begging for a second chance. Are you gonna let me in? I was running from the truth.. and now I'm crawling back to you." - Crawling Back To You, Backstreet Boys**

**-**

**Chapter Nineteen: Crawling Back To You**

The next few weeks passed quickly. There had been a decrease in temperatures, colder weather blowing in, snow finally painting the ground like cream. Many of the students were estatic that Christmas Break had finally begun, and so was Harry, relieved of the burden of homework and classes for two full weeks. Sirius had written him a day before break began inviting Harry to stay at Grimmauld place for break, to which Harry happily consented.

He'd had a quiet and fun time with his Godfather, and Sirius had actually made him very happy. And Harry realized, with inward satisfaction, that he hadn't at all thought about Voldemort or written in the diary ever since he had come back to school. Grimmauld Place perhaps had aided to it, because he was further away from Voldemort's cabin than he had been in months, and had managed the self-control of going to him on every little thing. But of course, he had no stress at the moment, no issues, and genuine happiness erupted inside him, reunited with his friends and Godfather, and the Weasleys. Even the Order members celebrated Christmas with him, including Snape, who had at first been reluctant since Sirius kept giving him death glares, but Harry had told them, in an angered voice, to act like mature adults and put the past to rest. Though they had reluctantly done so, even if for Harry's sake, they had, and that was enough to ignite Harry's happiness for a lifetime.

All too soon, however, Christmas was over and school was beginning again, harder and more demanding than ever, bringing the stress back like whisps of smoke. Their classes with Umbridge were still boring as ever, and the toad-like woman now encouraged the students to look up the effects of hallucinations and what your mind believes and what it could do to you. Harry, infuriated by it, asked what would happen if things _weren't_ in your head at all, but real and solid, and what were _those_ after-effects? Umbridge responded to this by putting on her fake smile and giving him detention.

So once again, his hand was bleeding profusely, throbbing painfully, and again the anger and stress was back as though it had never fully eradicated. Those days with Sirius seemed to be falling away, the opening of Christmas presents beneath the tree disappearing from his grasp. The happiness was gone again.

But though there were times when frustration and anger overwhelmed him (Dumbledore had gone back to giving him the silent treatment), he now had a practiced self-control in not running to the Dark Lord. Snape had even gone out of his way to teach Harry Occlumency, a skill that would stop anyone from influencing or controlling Harry's mind, as Dumbledore continued to suspect that Voldemort was possessing Harry. It would also help sheild Harry from torturous dreams sent from the mind connection he was experiencing earlier that year, before the past month or two had happened. Needless to say, Harry was excelling at it, aided mostly by the relationship change between himself and Snape. Potions had also improved, and after one such lesson, Snape pulled Harry aside.

"Your marks are improving greatly, Harry." said Snape, smiling slightly. "You certainly have your mother's talent."

Harry blushed. "Thanks, sir."

Snape nodded, as a group of students passed, and he pulled Harry closer, speaking softly. "Also, I thought I'd tell you that you no longer need Occlumency."

Harry blinked. "How come?"

"Because you have excelled and mastered the skill with ease these past few weeks, and you've come along faster than even myself or Albus had. That is extreme talent, and I'm glad to see it finally provoking in you."

Harry smiled, awed. "So.. so I've mastered Occlumency? No one will be able to read my mind?"

"No one," Confirmed Snape, smiling. "You'd better go now, Harry. Your friends are coming."

He gave Harry a small pat on the shoulder as he left, hidden from the view of other students, and when Harry turned and saw Ron and Hermione running up to him, he smiled. He satisfied himself in hearing those words over and over again in his dreams.

January began two weeks later, heavier snow and even colder temperatures coming with it. Harry spent less and less time outside, although sometimes at night, he snuck out underneath the Invisibility cloak and sat down inside the forest, feet before Voldemort's cabin, just sitting there, waiting, not quite knowing exactly what he was waiting for. Longing threatened to get the better of him again, but he did not yeild to it. Many times, he stood as he heard the door begin to open, and wanted to call out to the Dark Lord whenever he walked past him, but he knew he should and could not. On almost every occassion, Voldemort looked directly at the spot where Harry stood, as though he knew he was there even from beneath the cloak, and Harry took satisfaction in knowing that he did.

He had just come back from visiting the forest on a Hogesmead weekend, nose pink and cheeks flushed, to find Snape waiting for him just outside the Great Hall.

"Potter, the Headmaster wishes to see you." said Snape, speaking coldly as a bunch of students passed before resuming his casual, soft tone. "He has something very important he wishes to tell you."

Harry nodded. "Okay. Thanks, sir."

Snape nodded, and Harry headed off torwards Dumbledore's office.

-

He reached the gargoyle and muttered the password before proceeding up the stairs and took small, hesitant knocks on to the Headmaster's door.

A cheerful voice called "Come in!", and Harry entered, shutting the door behind him.

Dumbledore looked up, glanced at Harry momentarily, and looked away again. "Hello, Harry."

"Hi, sir." said Harry stiffly, angered that Dumbledore continued to shun him. "What do you want to tell me?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Maybe it's best if you sit down, Harry."

Heart beating rapidly, Harry obeyed, taking the seat just before Dumbledore's desk. "I..Is this about the prophecy, sir?"

"Very much so." Confirmed Dumbledore. "But first, I need your promise that you will no longer converse with Lord Voldemort or write inside his diary."

Harry did not respond, shock unable to let him; How did Dumbledore..?

As if knowing exactly what Harry was thinking, Dumbledore shook his head. "Wisdom is a gift, Harry, to be used to the fullest extent. I need your promise, Harry, otherwise I cannot tell you anything."

"I-" Harry began.

"I also want you to submit the diary to me and rid yourself of it. Voldemort is lying to you, Harry; He still has every intention of killing you. He used you enough to get the prophecy out of you. You are nothing more but a tool to him. He speaks in lies, Harry."

Despite the flames of anger licking his insides and the urge to yell, Harry forced himself to speak calmly. "I.. I promise, sir. When do you want me to bring the diary?"

"As soon as I finish telling you what I have to. So first things first - the prophecy. I think it is time I tell you where it is hidden."

"R-really?" Harry gasped, gaping at Dumbledore. "You'd tell me..?"

"Yes, I think you've earned that right to know." Said Dumbledore lightly. "However;" - His voice grew remarkably more serious - "I hope you know the risk I am taking in telling you this. I know Lord Voldemort will most likely try and get answers out of you, and I hope my trust in you is apparent and strong enough to encourage my belief that you will not speak a word to him."

Harry smiled, realizing how much Dumbledore trusted him. "Yes, sir. I promise."

Dumbledore nodded. "Now, about the prophecy. Do you remember the place to where you attended your trial?"

Harry's stomach turned over, thinking of Fudge and Umbridge. "You mean the Department of Mysteries?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore, nodding. "More specifically, the prophecy room."

Harry swallowed. "Is that.. is that where Voldemort's been sending his Death Eaters and visiting when he leaves? Is that where the Order is supposed to gaurd..?"

"Correct." Confirmed Dumbledore. "I'm sure the seriousness of you keeping your promise to me seems much more important now?"

"Yes, sir." said Harry quietly.

"Good. There is one more thing I wish to discuss with you, Harry, before you fetch the diary.."

Harry waited, but Dumbledore did not speak, so he urged him. "What is it, sir?"

"I have been searching for the right way to tell you, Harry. Forgive me, as I have waited too long to tell you. You first asked me this in your first year, as you lay in the hospital wing after having to fight off Voldemort for the first time. And yet I did not answer you, not because I couldn't, which I still could not, but because I wouldn't; You were too young and too innocent to know, just like with the prophecy, and I have realized the mistake in relaying that so late. I can answer your question now, now that I have the information I need. Do you remember asking me, Harry, why the spell Voldemort sent at you backfired and why he tried to kill you in the first place?"

"He tried to kill me because of the prophecy, though, right?" Harry asked, and Dumbledore nodded. "But the curse backfired because of my mother."

"Not exactly," said Dumbledore gently. "There is something more that happened that night than the power envoked from your mother's sacrifice."

Harry felt his heart in his throat. "W-what is it..?"

Dumbledore opened his mouth, closed it again, and tried to speak. "H-Harry.."

At that moment, Fawkes gave a small squak, and Dumbledore shot up from his chair, eyes narrowed. "Someone is coming. Please fetch the diary, Harry; I shall speak more to you after you have done so."

Harry nodded and stood, racing to the door, when it swept open, and Cornelius Fudge stood in front of him. Harry backed up as he almost collided with the minister, and Fudge upturned his nose at him as though he wasn't there and instead nodded at Dumbledore. "Dumbledore, I wish to speak to you for a small moment."

Dumbledore returned it, and motioned for Harry to leave, to which Harry happily obliged. Once he was outside the hall, he took a deep breath; It was over with. He had to give Dumbledore the diary and rid himself of his burdens forever. He had to stop it now. He walked silently back to the common room, and as he entered the portrait hole, seeing that it was still empty, he realized most people were still in Hogsemeade, including Ron and Hermione. That simplified matters. He stopped directly in front of his drawer in the bedside table and pulled, revealing the beat-up looking diary. He lifted it, and held it close to his chest for a single moment, or maybe it was ten, he did not know, eyes closed, as though extracting something within it and sucking it inside of him, as though eager to keep a part of it with him. When he could no longer stand, he sighed, and departed down the stairs, and just reached Dumbledore's door again when he heard loud voices. Setting back, he eavedropped to listen. He realized with a jolt that the voices belonged to Dumbledore and Snape, and they appeared to be arguing.

"You let this chance get away too many times, Albus!"

"I cannot tell him, Severus! Can you imagine what the knowledge would do to the boy?!"

"I understand your concern, Albus, but he cannot be denied of this forever! How else can he truly defeat the Dark Lord? I have expressed my views on this before, and though I hate it, I know what must happen! I know how to face the truth, Dumbledore, and so does Harry! He's strong, stronger than you think!"

"How can he remain to be strong when he finds out he must die?!"

The voices continued, but Harry did not hear him. Or perhaps he did, and pretended to himself he could not. Nothing else seemed to matter just then, Dumbledore's words echoing inside his head like a record player, shock his only feeling. He.. HE must die? Realizing he had his mouth open, he closed it, and without knocking, pushed Dumbledore's door open ferociously. Both men, Snape and Dumbledore looked up, and instantly froze, Dumbledore paling beneath the moonlight from the window. "How much did you hear, Harry?" He spoke quietly, and quickly, as though actually forming the question calmly would be a sin.

"Everything."

Harry's limbs were shaking, heart pounding fiercly, reminding him that he was alive. Fists clenched, he looked up, knowing that his face was red with anger, but not caring. "I heard everything."

Dumbledore sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, trembling, showing weakness for the first time Harry had ever known him. His voice shook. "Harry, you must understand.."

"Oh, I understand!" Harry snarled, and he glared daggers at the elder man before him. "You knew all along I had to die, yet you play me like some string on a marriente? You mean to say I must understand that while I thought you held the secrets of success to my survival, you knew all along I could not survive? Is that what you wanted to tell me? You wanted to tell me that I must die?"

Dumbledore said nothing for a moment. "There's more to it, Harry. The reason.."

"I DON'T WANT TO KNOW!" Roared Harry, and he felt inpenetratable rage inside him like never before; He could practically feel the hatred burning his eyes like rotting flame. "I DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHAT YOU HAVE TO TELL ME ANYMORE! I'VE HEARD ENOUGH, ENOUGH FROM YOU, FROM EVERYONE! YOU'RE JUST GOING TO SIT HERE AND NOT TRY TO EVEN STOP ME FROM DYING A POINTLESS -"

"Your death is not meaningless, Harry. Nor is it pointless. Do you acknowledge all that could be saved from -?"

Harry gave a strangled, bitter laugh, taking Dumbledore and Snape aback. "YOU FUCKING ASSWHOLE! IT'S NOT POINTLESS, SO LONG AS I DIE TO GIVE LIFE TO EVERYONE ELSE? HAS THAT ALWAYS BEEN YOUR FUCKING INTENTION?"

"Harry -!"

"NO!" Harry yelled, and he felt tears running down his face and made no effort to stop them. "I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU MORE THAN I COULD EVER HATE VOLDEMORT, HE'S THE ONE WHO CARES ABOUT ME, NOT YOU, AND I WISH YOU WOULD JUST FUCKING DIE!"

He screamed the last syllables so hard he thought his throat had torn, and he felt something emerge forcefully from his hand and he knew what it was, yet he made no effort to stop it; A beam of Green light shot from the diary, and he roared in anger as blasts erupted around him, the room ablaze, and Dumbledore and Snape both fell over, unconcious, as the floor split in two. Seething angrily, he barely noticed the distant screams of his fellow students, as the castle began to crumble shakily. He barely even noticed he had been thrown from the room, out of the castle, and was lying brokenly upon the grounds, near the forest, bleeding savely.

He finally felt the pain as the green left his eyelids, and screamed out; it was such pain he never felt before. He moved his hands, trying to get up, but they were torn and bleeding, the skin peeled away sickeningly. Gagging on his own vomit, Harry relieved himself of it before attempting again. He crawled, slowly and painfully, until he reached the clearing in the forest, his bleeding body leaving a snow-bloody trail behind. Dizzied, Harry felf the last of his energy drain as his face fell into cold wet snow, ten feet before the cabin. He could not make it anymore.

Crying, he knew it was useless; He would fufill the duty Dumbledore expected of him. He felt himself pass out just as a high voice penetrated his eardrums, and smiled as everything went dark. He was safe now. Safe with Voldemort.

-

Hehe, I loved this chapter. Hope you all do too:D

- Tainted Visions


	20. Secret

**A/N: Another chappie, yay!**

**- **

**"There is a secret that we keep. I won't sleep if you won't sleep because tonight may be the last chance we'll be given. We are compelled to do what we must do. We are compelled to do what we have been forbidden. So I won't sleep if you won't sleep tonight.." The Secret's In The Telling, Dashboard Confessionals.**

**-**

**Chapter 20: Secret**

Harry winced as the cloth pressed against his wounds, emanting another painful twinge against his peeled and blistered face. "Ouch!"

Voldemort frowned at him. "Harry, of course it's going to hurt, your skin is peeled and hanging off! What you were doing, I have no idea, but -"

"I didn't do it on purpose!" said Harry miserably. "I dunno how it happened, but I got so angry, and the diary did something, and the whole castle started falling, then I was blasted and landed here. I really don't know what happened.."

Voldemort padded his face, not speaking. He had found the boy lying in the snow unconcious and carefully carried Harry into the cabin, and immediately sought out the many healing potions and nessesities he had to try and heal the boy. "Do you remember what happened before you woke up here?"

Harry jerked as the pad hit his face again. "No."

Voldemort nodded, and spoke slowly. "When I did, you were unconcious. You were bleeding from your face, arms, and legs, and I at first thought someone had attacked you, perhaps a Werewolf. And then you stopped breathing. I tried the reviving spell, and was pleased when it worked."

Harry gawked at him. "You're pleased I was alive?"

Voldemort almost smirked. "Harry, if you're going to die, it'll be by my hand, no one else's."

Harry snorted. "Glad to know that. At least I have no one else to fear."

Voldemort sighed and removed the cloth and stood, turning his back on the boy. "As an answer to your question, your anger was so powerful it harmed you and everyone else in a twenty-mile radius. I felt the shaking, and knew it was no earthquake, though if I hadn't known, I would have assumed that's what is was."

Harry blinked. "How did you know it was me..?"

"I felt you." said Voldemort, turning to him again, watching him closely. "I felt your anger. The mind-connection, Harry." He elaborated at Harry's puzzled look, "I've never felt such emotion from you. They must have something to greatly upset you."

"Yes." said Harry, and he looked away, unsure if he should tell the other wizard about what Dumbledore had told him. "He said.. something cruel. Do you see why I can't go back anymore, now..?"

Voldemort did not speak for a moment, and he seized the bottle beside him and opened it, beginning to attend Harry's mascared face again. "Whatever it was I'm sure you had reason to be angry."

Harry just nodded, and winced again as the oozy liquid on the pad moved around his face. "Is this nessasary?"

Voldemort gave him a raised eyebrow. "If you wish not to be in pain and have your skin healed, then yes."

There was a few minutes of silence, Voldemort working on his face, and Harry felt an urge of guilt for not thanking the other man. He cleared his throat. "Thank you."

"Mmm?" The Dark Lord questioned, not removing his eyes from Harry's face.

"For.. for healing me."

Voldemort said nothing to this, and stood, relinquishing the painful potion before replacing it back inside the cupboard over the couch. He turned to Harry. "That should do it. You may feel a lot of tingling and burning for the next twelve hours, but that is the sign that your skin is healing and becoming intact."

Harry nodded, his stomach giving a loud growl.

Voldemort seated himself beside him, gaze hard and intense. "Are you hungry?"

Harry blushed, and nodded, embarrassed. "Y-yes.."

"You have no reason to be embarrassed for wanting food, Harry. It's a need, and it must be given. Never be afraid to ask for something you need." Voldemort spoke to him, red eyes boring into Harry's emerald green. "Especially.. from me."

Harry attempted to smile, but his skin hurt too much, so he nodded.

Voldemort sighed and stood. "I'll make you something. Sandwhich?"

"Sure." Harry agreed. "I ate a lot of bread when I was younger, since all I got to sneak was bread. Whenever the Dursley's refused to feed me, I always waited until they were asleep and I could sneak something out. I escaped from them most of the time, but a few times they caught me. But I was pretty sneaky and quiet about it for the most part. I'd make a good burglar." He gave a small chuckle, and raised his right hand to touch his tender face. "It's starting to feel a little better.."

He looked up, and saw Voldemort glaring at him hardly, nostrils flared and was momentarily scared; Voldemort's face was contorted with anger, seething, and he locked eyes with Harry. "What's that on your hand?"

Harry immediately dropped his right arm. "Nothing. It's from the -"

"No, I don't think that attack can make words etch onto your skin." Said Voldemort, and he strode forward quickly and seized Harry's right hand, running his fingers along it gently. "Who did this to you? Or who may I say made you do this?"

"Nobody, I did it!" Said Harry quickly, and he tried to pry his hand out from under the Dark Lord's, but Voldemort grabbed at his forearm, and Harry gave a shout of pain as his skin burned with pain.

"Don't you lie to me, Harry Potter!" Snarled the Dark Lord. "Dont you dare! Tell me right now who did this to you!"

"Umbridge!" Said Harry quickly. "Umbridge!"

Voldemort released him, appalled. "That..woman made you self-mutilate?"

"Yes.." Said Harry, not looking at Voldemort. "She made me write it over and over after I told everyone you were back."

Voldemort stared at him a second longer before sitting himself down beside Harry again. "And you never told anyone? Dumbledore, or the Order?"

"Why would I?" Harry gave a bitter laugh and embraced his knees. "No one would care, anyway. And even if they did, I couldn't risk anyone finding out so then they could get in trouble by the Ministry. Ron and Hermione knew, but that's it. I shouldn't have even told them, because they wanted me to report it."

"You should have, Harry." said Voldemort firmly. "How long has this been going on?"

"Weeks." said Harry. "Maybe months. Ever since the first day of term."

Voldemort shook his head. "You don't have to go through this kind of stuff alone, Harry."

Harry could not bring himself to look into the Dark Lord's face and wished for the first time he was alone, away from the other man. There was a sigh, and he finally looked up to see Voldemort standing, not looking at him. "I'll get you some food. I can hear your stomach rumbling from here. I'll be back momentarily."

He walked off, and Harry looked back at his knees, letting a small single stream of tears run down his face. He felt so guilty, so detatched, so not.. himself. He felt like another person when he unleashed that anger upon Dumbledore and Snape, and everyone who didn't deserve to suffer. Ron, Hermione; Neville, Luna; Everyone who had stood by him, even after all of the horrible things he had done. Even after, unknown to them, sleeping with the enemy...

"Here, Harry."

Harry looked up, a plate held out to him from the Dark Lord. There was a large sandwhich on it.

"Thank you!" Said Harry gratefully, and he took it, beginning to eat. Upon opening his mouth, however, the skin around his mouth began to burn incredibly, and he attempted to rub it. "Ouuch.."

"I told you it would hurt." Said Voldemort in amusement, and he took the seat beside Harry again. "Eat slowly, Harry. We don't want your skin tearing again."

Harry nodded, and he chewed a small bit off and ate it before swallowing. "Thank you."

And without thinking, or knowing why he was doing it, Harry leaned forward and layed his head against the Dark Lord's chest, closing his eyes. He felt a hand run through his hair, and Harry snuggled closer, warmth running all through him, his pain forgotten, about to drift off, when all hell broke loose.

There was a loud rumble, and the door blasted off it's hinges; Harry gasped and shot up from the couch, moving torward the window, looking to Voldemort with wide eyes, and the elder gestured for Harry to retreat from the window as he himself got to his feet, and Harry obliged; The door fell into the inner side of the cabin, and Voldemort dragged Harry behind him, and Harry gasped in shock as Albus Dumbledore stared back at him, looking quite demonic.

"I knew you'd come here, Harry." Said Dumbledore calmly, and Harry was shocked to hear his voice somewhat cold, the twinkle gone.

"And how did you know that, Dumbledore?" Asked Voldemort, and he raised an arm in front of Harry, as though prepared to protect him if nessasary.

"There's a trail of blood in the snow." Explained the elder wizard, and he raised his wand. "How long have you been having a relationship with him, Harry?"

Harry backed up, terrified; He'd never seen Dumbledore like this. He had never been terrified of Dumbledore, but now he was. "How do you...?"

Dumbledore ignored him, and pointed his wand directly at him. "Step away from him, Harry. Or I'll have to make you."

Voldemort growled, and whipped out his own wand, eyes narrowed. "You hurt Harry and I will do more than knock you unconcious, old man."

''Step away from him, Harry." Repeated Dumbledore. "He lies to you! He does not care if you get hurt!"

"Yet you stand here and threaten him with harm!" Snarled Voldemort. "You claim to care about him? Then why threaten him?"

"He is not in his right mind! You have warped and twisted it, and I know you're possessing him! If he were thinking clearly -"

"I am thinking clearly!" Snapped Harry, and he was shocked to find the courage inside him to speak. "He's right, you don't give a damn about me! You've been planning my death for fourteen long years! How can you do that to me?!"

"Voldemort is the one who's wanted to kill you from the start, Harry!" Dumbledore's eyes were very bright, widened in anger. "How can you place your trust in him? How can you stand beside him?!"

"Go to hell!" Growled Harry, and he felt tears slide down his face. "Just go to hell!"

Voldemort growled at Dumbledore, and raised his wand higher. "Leave, now, Dumbledore!"

Dumbledore ignored this. "I'll ask you one more time: Get away from him, or I'll have to do something I might regret!"

Harry felt his body shaking, and grabbed at Voldemort's robes. "No."

Dumbledore sighed angrily. "You leave me no choice, then, Harry."

Something errupted out of Dumbledore's wand, and Harry closed his eyes in fright, even as he felt Voldemort move in front of him more determindly. Then something painful collided with his head, and he gasped in pain and fell to the floor as his eyes rolled in his head and he faded into the darkness.

-

Sorry it's so short. Had a bit of writer's block with this chapter. No, Dumbledore did not use the killing curse. He just used a pretty powerful spell. You'll find out next chapter. Dumbledore knows now, though, the secret is out. What will happen now that it has?


	21. Chasing Cars

**A/N: Another dirty chappie for you all! XD. Also, once I've finished this story, I will be going under revision. So some things might be changed/edited/taken out, just to make the story a bit better and more understandable for everyone (also satisfying.)**

**I had questions about how the kids got where they were in Chapter 6 (Grimmauld Place) when in the book it was Arthur's attack that allowed them to go. Well, I had actually forgotten about that, so kudos to you for being so perceptive on that! XD. I came up with the idea that since the savior of the Wizarding World had gone missing for that time, and since Ron had seen Harry kidnapped, he would have assumed he was dead. And since Voldemort came into THE SCHOOL with almost no effort at all, all of the kids were sent home temporarily, and Ron, Hermione, Ginny, etc. all chose to go to the Headquarters, as that was where all of their families and allies were gathered at the time. Hope that clears that up. I hope to include it in the revision. **

**Also, about Snape: LOl, I know I'm drifting off character with him. It's just the way I like to portray Snape. But good ol' Sev will be back to his grumpy self soon, especially around Harry, once he realizes what's been going on. (Dumbledore surely would have told him by now after that last chapter - that is of course IF he told him. ;) ) **

**I've tried to make the story more revolved around Harry/Voldemort and the diary more than the sub-plots (where the trio are at the time, what goes down when Harry's not around, etc.), but I realized those things are important, so I'll definately clear those things up for those who want to know. **

**Enjoy!**

**- Tainted Visions**

**- **

**"If I lay here, if I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world? Forget what we're told - before we get too old. Show me a garden that's bursting into life." - Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol. **

**-**

**Chapter 21: Chasing Cars**

"Harry, wake up."

Harry opened his eyes, meeting the ruby red of the Dark Lord's. He felt something soft and comfortable beneath him, and realized he was lying on a bed, his head throbbing painfully. He forced himself into a sitting position, and grasped his head. "My head hurts.."

"I would imagine so." Said Voldemort, sounding amused. "You had quite a burst of energy there."

This statement made Harry remove his hands from his head. "_I_ had a burst of energy? I saw something come out of Dumbledore's wand!"

Voldemort shook his head. "The old fool, powerful as he is, would not resort to dark magic. He was trying to cast a hover charm on you, to get you away from me. However, it did not work. You had a burst of energy erupt out of you, and it was powerful enough to knock both Dumbledore and I off our feet. And dismantle my living room, might I add."

Harry looked around, noticing the mess that was the living room, but there appeared to be no sign of Dumbledore. "So Dumbledore's gone?"

Voldemort nodded. "Your blast must have been a reaction to the spell he was trying to cast on you and it knocked him out of here. The protective wards around my cabin broke, too - must put those back up." He stood, and raised his wand in a circular motion, and Harry knew he was reinforcing the protective wards.

"I'm sorry.. I should have had more control." Harry muttered, and he lowered his head as Voldemort finished the spells and turned to look at him.

"That was not your fault. You forget that the diary itself feeds off your anger and ushers whatever power you want to annihilate."

"Wait." Frowned Harry, and he sat up more forcefully. He had just remembered something. "The diary's not here."

Voldemort almost smirked. "It is, Harry. The book was in this room, but even if it were a distance away from you, even if you do not have it clutched in your hand, it's grown attatched to you, therefore you can act without it near you; It's like the electric charge on a battery."

"Oh." Said Harry, and he raised his knees to his chest, his eyes staring at the diary lying on the bedside table, and felt a slight pang of uneasiness. "So whatever I want to happen.. will..?"

"Yes." Explained Voldemort. "The only effect that proves a problem is your recurring injuries. We're lucky this was a minor incident."

"Yeah.." Mumbled Harry, looking back to his knees. "I don't know why.. I feel so angry.. so mad.. and I want to make them _hurt_.."

"Harry, look at me."

Gentle hands - cold but gentle - cupped under his chin, forcing his head up, and Harry looked up at the Dark Lord with sad eyes, as Voldemort gazed at him firmly. "They've hurt you, even if you don't realize it, but they have. Dumbledore's played you for fool and taken advantage of you. You're nothing more than his pawn in a war, Harry, _this_ war. He wants _you_ to be the one who dies, you to be the one who risks his life and gives it so others can live. I've told you that all along. Now you see it for yourself. He's never cared for you, if he did, he would not allow you to suffer so easily without trying to do something, anything, to stop it. He does not love or care for you. He feeds you the information, but gives you clues or hints to find the solution; He tells you things, but far too late; He hides things from you, and does not tell you because he feels you do not need to know. But you do. He's played you from the start, Harry, and he will continue to if you let him."

Harry said nothing, and Voldemort released his fingers, and ran them through Harry's jet-black hair. "You're too precious to be wasted. You.. you're the innocence I still strain to seek inside myself, the purity of a soul I have lost too long ago. I see.. all that I could have been, could be, in you, Harry Potter. You are my downfall, the bane of my existance, but you are also the only person who can make me feel like I do, in hatred and love, attraction and repelance; You, your precious soul, makes me feel. You make me alive, yet you make me dead. And if I am to die... I want you to forever be with me.."

And then Voldemort was kissing him, his tounge running deep down Harry's throat, and Harry all at once felt all of the frustration and anger discarding in the one thing he had strived for, _wanted_ - though he hadn't admitted it until now - and he could not deny himself this desire. He kissed back, desperate and ferocious, wanting to feel, to feel alive within himself, and he wanted to feel the Dark Lord.

He was pushed back against the frame of the bed, eyes closed, his hands running up Voldemort's robes as the man forced himself on top of him, and Harry made no effort to stop it. He wanted it, he wanted to feel his body with Voldemort's, to actually feel the attraction between them and not just hear or see it. He needed to _feel_. Groaning, he threw his head back as Voldemort broke the kiss and began carassing Harry's neck with his skeletal fingers, running along the jawline before stroking his cheeks, then backward near his hair-line. He panted, liking the feel of Voldemort's hands on him, and this time instigated the kiss, knocking the Dark Lord onto the bed and falling on top of him, Harry's feet hitting the bedframe.

Voldemort's hands were crawling up his back, feeling the texture of Harry's skin and he returned the compassion in Harry's kiss with more ferocity, pulling Harry's shirt over his head and temporarily breaking it before resuming it. Harry groaned again, this time louder, getting hot. Sweat was pouring down his head, and he felt as if he were about to burst, wanting to break free, and gasped. Voldemort broke the kiss, pulling back Harry's bottom lip momentarily before releasing it, and he growled and threw the boy off of him, shoving him back, and he pushed himself forward onto Harry, again the aggressor. Now that he had started, he could not stop.

He unbottoned his shirt, ripping them hem in the process, and threw it aside, revealing a smooth, clear chest that Harry brought his hands to, just wanting to feel the Dark Lord's body. Voldemort grinned at him, and again imposed a kiss, hard and forceful, and Harry winced jerkily as Voldemort licked at the inner walls of his mouth, and drew blood from Harry's gums. He retracted, licking Harry's blood from his red lips, and Harry stared at him, green eyes filled with desperation and need, and he stared into red eyes that reflected the same desires. They were in the same place, wanting the same things, both vulnerable and unable to stop it, to think better of it - they had entranced eachother, and that was all that mattered, now.

Harry moaned as Voldemort moved his hands torwards Harry's pants, running the ends of the fingers tenderly on the thighs, moving gradually further down until he reached the bulge. Looking into Harry's face, seeing the desire in those brilliant green eyes, he continued, and Harry moaned loudly as Voldemort finally touched him. Giving no hesitance to Harry, he unbuttoned the boy's jeans, and ripped them off, leaving Harry only in his underwear. His hands moved to his own pants and he quickly unfastened them, removing the boxers with them. Harry's eyes lightened in pure ecstacy, and he again pushed himself on top of the boy, removing the briefs as their bodies collided, both panting heavily with pleasure as the kiss returned, naked and exposed.

After a moment, Harry broke the kiss, staring into the Dark Lord's face, the eyes still shining with the want and need like Voldemort's own. This was evident in his voice, low and pain-filled, soft and betrayed. "I'll be with you.. I'll be with you forever. I.. I always.. denied.. everything. I can't deny this, I.. I_ want _you.. I _need _you.."

"_Yes, Harry_." Whispered Voldemort, planting a kiss near Harry's collarbone. "We're two of a kind, you and I. Forget whatever Dumbledore has told you - about the prophecy, your destiny, the Wizarding World, us. He cannot feel what we feel; No one can understand. They will not allow it. But we don't have to listen to them. We're all eachother ever needs.. you know you can no longer run from me. You can no longer escape my grasp, because you were always in it. You were always mine, always mine to have and to taste, and to want; I have been your's. Such a perfect, idea connection you and I have. A connection we cannot throw away or disregard. You know now you belong to me. Be mine, now and forever, Harry.."

"I'm your's." Gasped Harry, as Voldemort tossed his legs aside, shoving Harry onto his back. "I'll forever be your's. I always was.."

Voldemort leaned near Harry, so that their faces were merely inches apart. "Forget the world, forget Dumbledore, forget everyone. Just revel in me, lose yourself in me.." He shoved himself into Harry, and Harry did not gasp or shriek in pain; He sighed, in content, it seemed, and grasped at Voldemort's lower lip, wanting to taste more of the man before him, and Voldemort obliged.

Again, they were breathing eachother's breaths of life, drinking in the other like water, tasting eachother like desert, and drawing the sanguine life out of the other like flowing red blood, feeling the farthest point of feeling there was, each one losing themselves inside the other. Two sworn enemies, now two lovers, bound to hate and now bound to attraction, a mixture of good and evil, of innocence and an innocence lost, purity and taint smearing upon the souls like blood on walls. A stain, a spot, a imprint like a scar on a forehead, a prophecy, a soul connected to the other like the minds, entwined so neither could escape the other's grasp.

Voldemort pulled out of Harry as the boy's eyes slid drowsily, and Voldemort wrapped him into his arms as Harry fell into the slumber of sleep, feeling the spark of something he could not identify inside of him like the flicker of flame on a candle. The feel of Harry's body still lingered upon his, the taste of Harry's life, his blood, ever more apparent, and the stain of sin still etched like the names on a gravestone.

A stain that neither could erase.

-

**Had A LOT of fun with this chapter. Though I was both exhilarated and creeped out by it. LOL. Hope you liked, nevertheless. **

**- Tainted Visions**


	22. Before The Dawn

**A/N: Over 100 reviews, WOOT! Thank you all so much:) Love ya!**

**- **

**"Meet me after dark again, and I'll hold you. I want nothing more than to see you there.. and maybe tonight we'll fly so far away, we'll be lost before the dawn. If only night can hold you where i can see you, my love. Then let me never ever wake again. And maybe tonight, we'll fly so far away. We'll be lost before the dawn." - Before The Dawn, Evanescence**

**- **

**Chapter 22: Before The Dawn**

Dawn was approaching when Harry awoke, light peering over the edge of a dark twilight, the sun glimmering like a small light in the darkness of a navy blue sky. Blinking, Harry realized he was clothed, lying again in Voldemort's bed, and the man was nowhere to be seen. He sat up and stared into the room filled with darkness, the sound of the crickets and a guilty conscience his only company. He felt the tears well in his eyes but forced them back; Why had he been so naiive, so gullible, to believe that Voldemort would stay with him, hold him in his arms, tell Harry he loved him? He had denied it, denied the feelings he had ever since that first night when Voldemort's lips first entranced his own, the taste of his life becoming the only quench for Harry's thirst, and the only appeasement to Harry's hunger.

Why had Harry allowed himself to create this illusion in his mind, live inside this fantasy, knowing fully well that it was not real, that it could never happen? Why had he denied himself the real reason of his existance, the destiny awaiting him, the knowledge that he must destroy Voldemort or die himself, and instead turn to the one who had brought upon all of the agony he was to endure, commit the act only the truest of lovers should ever execute? How could he be so ignorant, so idiotic, to think that his needs, and desires, could come first, when the people around him, the ones who needed him, could not have their's? How could he deserve life, the breath of existance, when innocence was dying all around him, children younger than he, men and women and children who died just because they could? How could he have allowed that to happen, when it was his duty to stop it?

Blindness was his one true weakness, love his one true stregnth; If Dumbledore had been right about anything, it was that. Love was everything.

And was this he was feeling now, these feelings he had denied, the ones boiling over, everything that was love? Was love, the true meaning of it, the endless nights of pleasure he felt with the Dark Lord, the way he made him feel, the happiness that lighted Harry's world like a sixty-wat bulb true love? Wasn't it not just lust, just about using the other to satisfy the other's needs? Although that was how Harry had at first viewed it, he wondered now if there could be much more than that - something more - between him and his worst enemy..

A few weeks ago if there was he would have said he could never permit it.

A few weeks ago he would have said he could never allow himself to feel such things for the man who had taken everything, the life he could have had, away from him. He would have said he could not feel love for the man who hated him with such passion, who was incapable of feeling what Harry so abundantly nutured.

But that was a few weeks ago. This was now.

The tears were cold, but they seemed numb now, almost nonexistant and insignificant as they fell down his cheeks - it was as if he had no tears left to cry, no more self-pity for having to give up something that he was desperately wanted. But he had told himself that he did not want Voldemort. He had convinced himself many times these past few weeks that he could not love the Dark Lord, could not even like him, there was too much hatred there, too much history to erase that could somehow make this right. It was all a lie, the lie of trust he and Voldemort had forged, the passionate love that simply did not exist between them, the feelings he exhibited whenever the Dark Lord looked at him..

How he hated it.

He hated everything he felt inside whenever the Dark Lord held him, wiped his tears, held his hand, kissed his scarlet lips, locked eyes with his, felt the man's being in his own; He hated himself for allowing it to happen, hated himself for doing the one thing he never would have found himself doing with Lord Voldemort, because it was ridiculous, so unlikely to happen, and yet it had, and he had let it.

He had let himself do the deed with the man, let himself be comforted by him when he gave a rat's ass whether Harry was hurt inside or not, let the man manipulate and misdirect his feelings, let the demon inside him, the monster he had always run from, the capability to be dark, take control, and let the darkness take over. Everything that had happened had because he let it, and he did not care. It was wrong, he knew it was, but he could not bring himself to stop, to give up on everything he wanted and needed, although he knew it was for the best and was right.

He did not want to do what was right anymore. What was right was what his heart was telling him.

He wanted to be the Dark Lord's forever, caught inside those webs of spidery hands for all eternity, never escape the his grasp, because knew now he could never outrun it, and had no desire to. He did not want to care anymore, or have to care, have to take a destiny he knew he could never fufill. He did not want to lose anymore, because that's all that he would gain from the life he was forced to take - nothing.

He remembered, sitting here alone in the dark, the words Voldemort had first asked him when he had acknowledged these feelings, the question he had pondered over and over again in his mind, searching deep inside himself for the answer: _"Are you sure you want this, Harry?"_

And he wanted it. He wanted Voldemort, wanted him forever. He knew very well what he wanted now.

He raised his head just as the Dark Lord walked into the room, eyeing Harry questioningly, and Harry spoke in an almost detatched voice. "Don't ever stop playing the lullaby; If you do, I fear I will never sleep again.."

"Harry?" The Dark Lord walked quickly up to him, face pale under the moonlight reflected off the curtains. "Are you all right?"

Harry's expression remained indifferent, and his eyes were dull and without feeling. "You have put me under a lullaby I know I can never escape or wake up from. You have to put me under a spell no one else can understand, a spell more powerful than anything anyone can put against us. You will forever sing to me, sing a noctune of love I could feel in no one else; You sing to me in my sleep, Tom, and your voice is so enchanting I can never tune it out. In sleep you sing to me, only me, and I forever want to fall asleep listening to you tell me you love me."

There was a long silence, and Harry looked away from the man, fearing that his feelings would not be returned...

"Harry, look at me.." Voldemort's hands lifted Harry's face, light and spidery-legged on his soft skin, tears running down his face, and they wiped them away. "You have nothing to fear; I shall forever remain with you. You are my only desire. I do love you, Harry Potter. If I were to look into the mirror of erised, which you looked upon at eleven years old, I would see only you, forever you, because that's what fate has ensured for us both."

He planted a kiss on Harry's lips, and Harry closed his eyes as fresh tears fell down his face. He wanted nothing more. Voldemort took a seat near Harry's feet, their foreheads pressed together, and spoke quietly. "I hate everything about you, Harry. I hate you for exposing this weakness in me.. but it is only you who can see it, Harry Potter. I love all that you are, the innocence I can never regain, the good I can never again find inside myself.. "

Harry raised his head by an inch, their contact never breaking, and stared deep into the man's eyes, seeing the vulnerability again inside the man who represented all evil and sin, and whispered, "Why do you let yourself be weak infront of me..?"

There was silence for a moment, then: "Because you are the only one who can see good in something that represents all evil."

Harry layed his head forward, falling on the Dark Lord's chest, as Voldemort wrapped his arms gently around Harry's waist, and sleep overcame him, a sleep he never wanted to awaken from, a noctune putting his mind to rest, and he did not want to ever turn it off as long as the Dark Lord was there to hear it with him.

-

No, this is not the end. Have five more chapters to write, then it's complete. Has Harry finally admitted his true feelings or is he again confused and has no idea what he wants? And YAY for vulnerable! Voldy. He's pretty much gone after this chapter now, though, now that he's said why he was allowing himself to be so.. weak. XD No more weak! Voldy. LOL. Hope you liked!

- Tainted Visions


	23. Beg

**A/N: Sorry for the long break – was waiting for my own computer to come! Yay for no more sharing! Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

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"**Won't you beg me then tell me how to love you. Like anybody else would. I know you're risking failure. (Risking failure..) Go run for cover. (For how long..) You better start to love her so much you're moving on and on.." — Beg, Evans Blue **

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**Chapter 23: Beg**

The Dark Lord watched the sleeping boy lying on his bed, eyes narrowed and face impassive. It had been hours since the boy had gone to sleep, and he almost had the urge to wake him from the slumber, but Harry looked too peaceful, and he had – though he would never admit it to himself – taken pleasure and content in watching him.

The truth was he could never admit he actually cared for the boy to himself. Something in the back of his mind told him he did, that these feelings he was experiencing – though he had denied them – were indeed real, they existed, and now that they did he could not pretend they did not, or deny them any longer; he knew it was futile to even attempt to, to try and escape these feelings — you could never outrun your heart. Harry had filled that gaping hole where his heart once was, had become the thirst for the innocence and purity he strived to feel again; Harry was what he was missing in himself.

He needed that. He needed to _feel_ it. Although at first, Harry had been merely a tool for his own needs, the object he could use to unleash his own pleasure, a simple toy he could break anytime he wanted, at his own will; He still wanted that. He still wanted to break Harry. He had gained Harry's trust, even committed the ultimate sin with him, another ignition of fuel to the fire, and now...

Now it seemed to have become even bigger than a blaze of fire, turned into something he didn't want, yet at the same time he desired, something he seemed to have wanted all his life, but never had – love. But did Harry love him? The child who had been deprived of his parents (to which he himself had done), who himself had been the intended target? The boy who had watched his friend die just months before, so narrowly escaping death himself? He had wanted to kill him then...so why did he not now?

What was it that was stopping him from just killing the little brat right now, foolishly asleep, with no wand to defend him, no one to die for him? His wand was in his hand, he could get away with it... the boy would have no chance...

Most importantly, no one would know.

Yet it was so idiotic, such a coward's way out — he had wanted to face the boy one on one, a respectful opponent , with no interference and no more putting it off. The prophecy said _neither could live while the other survives_;One of them must kill the other. There was no other choice. So why was he putting it off..?

He was so lost in thought that he failed to acknowledge that Harry had awoken, and he was sitting up and staring at him. "Have you been watching me all of this time..?"

Voldemort blinked, coming out of his reverie, red eyes focusing on the raven haired boy. "I admit, yes. However, other than gazing at you sleeping, I've been thinking about a lot of things.."

Harry blinked, perplexed. "Like what?"

A sigh; "Our future... what fate has in store for us.."

Harry frowned, and drew his knees to his chest. "I know. I've been thinking about that a lot, too.."

Voldemort nodded. "Understandable. Are you, like me, thinking about these past few months..?"

The boy nodded, looking down at the covers. "Yeah.."

He watched him closely. "And do you feel as if you didn't make the right choice? Do you still have doubts about this whole thing?"

Harry lifted his head, eyes miserable, and gazed at the Dark Lord closely. "I don't know, really. It's just... so _hard_. No one else understands me, or listens to me. Everyone just expects me to follow this destiny I've been forced to follow. It seems that's all I'm living for – to save everyone else. How can I, when I can't even save myself? How can I protect everyone else when – ?"He broke off, swallowing, as if the words caused him great pain, before giving a stiff nod and continuing. " I – I know I can never defeat you; You're too strong, and I'm too weak. Dumbledore's been telling me I have a chance, but that's only because he's in denial. He wants to believe I do, but I know and he knows I don't. I'm just a kid, what am I supposed to do? I can't even stand up to a teacher, much less you."

If Voldemort hadn't been facing Harry, he might have smirked. Finally, the boy had realized. He had given up. He could feel it emanating off of the boy like body heat. The boy's mind expressed that every thought, and he could feel the hopelessness inside of Harry's soul with almost smug ease.

"I don't want to have to fight anymore." Red eyes locked with green, and Harry gave a small gasp as emotion finally got the better of him and crystal droplets of tears fell down his cheekbones. "I don't want to be used by anyone anymore, or have to watch people die. I want to escape it all."

The Dark Lord's eyes widened by a fraction. It was one thing to imagine the boy giving up, another to witness and see it. He had never once imagined how hard Harry's life must be, and why should he? He hated this child, the child that had destroyed everything he was, the child that was supposed to die at just a year old but lived to tell the tale. Why should he care whether the little fool wanted to escape the pain that he himself had inflicted upon him? Didn't he want the brat to suffer, feel so much pain that he begged for death? Up until now, he had.

Now he still did.

"Please," Harry whispered, and Voldemort raised his head, hardly able to stare at the green eyes that expressed so much pain and suffering, eyes that had seen too much for someone so young, things he should never have seen until he was grown. But he had grown up already – he had never been a child, never had the chance to. Why did he, the Dark Lord, feel so much regret, almost guilt, that he hadn't let Harry explore that life, let Harry have the happiness he so rightfully deserved? Was it his own anger, own hurt and own sadness that stopped him from letting other's have the things he had never percieved? He'd never comprehended the taction of love, or the caress a loving mother planted upon a newborn baby as her soft red lips set upon the child's forehead – something his mother had never done to him.

Perhaps now, years later, he longed for that feeling, the tactility of touch, of feeling, and the simplicity of love? Was love what he truly strived for, the strength of his own enemy? Was this, perhaps, why he wanted Harry so? To truly feel the boy's tenacity? Was this how weak he had become? Why did he allow his weaknesses and disadvantages get the better of him again? Why was he being so _weak_!?

"You don't have to fight anymore, Harry." He whispered, and the boy wiped his sleeves upon his wet eyes, drying them. "You don't have to. No one has to do anything. You can remain here forever, give yourself to me like you have now, but eternally, and I can ensure no one ever hurts you again. You'll never have to fight, to struggle; You'll have me to protect you."

There was that vulnerability in Harry's eyes again, but this time the Dark Lord drank it like water thrust into a thirsty child's mouth. Harry's weakness was his strength. Harry's strength was his weakness. How odd...

He moved over and cupped his skeletal white fingers beneath Harry's chin, forcing the teen to look up. "Harry... if you truly want to feel no more pain... give yourself to me. Don't outrun it, like everyone expects. You feel so easily, so elegantly; Don't let that go away. You know better than anyone you can never run away from your feelings, those whispers your heart's telling you, those urges your senses know are there, but are being repelled. Don't ponder it anymore, Harry; Admit what you truly want."

"I –" Harry swallowed and cleared his throat. "I want you. Forever. I want nothing else."

Smiling slightly, the Dark Lord ran a hand through Harry's untidy jet-black hair, stroking it. It was so soft, much like Harry's skin. So tender..

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you."

The boy raised his head, face still tear-stained. "Yeah..?"

"Yes." He watched Harry closely. "I think it's time you've seen the prophecy. Time _we've_ seen it. In it's full contents. Then you can make your choice, in it's finality. No more second-guessing. After this, there will be no more turning back. So once you've seen it, it's time to make your choice. Do you wish to go?"

There was silence for a moment, then: "Yes."

Nodding, the Dark Lord stood, as did Harry. "It's in the Department of mysteries."

He took hold of Harry's forearm. "I must hold on to you, as we have to apparate. Don't want you getting splinched, now. Not a good feeling."

"It's happened to you, then?" Asked Harry, amused.

"On a few occasions," explained Voldemort. "Something I assure you is not something I do on a regular basis."

"Okay then." Grinned Harry, and then they were enveloped in a tube, compressing the air, and Harry struggled to breathe, his vision blurring incredibly fast and feeling as though he were being suffocated. "Can't breathe."

"It's all right, Harry." said Voldemort gently. "It'll be over in a moment. I forgot you never Apparated before."

The moment these words left his lips, it was over; Harry gave a shuddering breath and took in lung fulls of air, realizing that they were not quite outside but there was still an earthly scent where they were. But it seemed almost unreal, a dream, and whispers were all around him, speaking quietly and not quite understandably. He got to his feet, looking around. A long curtain was before him, transparent and silky.

The voices seemed to be coming from it.

Astonished, he whispered, "Where are we?"

"In the veil room." Voldemort explained. "Which is why it may feel like we're outside when we're truly not. The air is captured in here and never leaves. Those cold gusts you're feeling are from the veil near us, and I am sure you, like I, hear the whispers from the dead... but it is beyond here when the prophecy lies. Come."

He walked forward and Harry followed him, heading down a narrow hallway that seemed endless, until at last they reached a door that was slightly ajar – Had someone already been inside? He wondered whether or not Voldemort thought the same thing, for the man stopped, Harry almost walking into him, a thoughtful look upon his face. "Interesting."

"Maybe the gusts from the veil did it?" Suggested Harry, although it sounded completely unlikely and rather stupid against his own ears. The Dark Lord turned to him.

"Wouldn't be an impossible thing. These gusts can be pretty strong. It may be the case, however, that someone got here before us."

"You mean it's a trap?" Asked Harry, his stomach dropping.

"Possibly." Said the Dark Lord, and he pushed the door open so that it creaked. "However, even if it is, no one can possibly surprise me. It may be that the Order, or even Dumbledore are here to prevent me from taking the prophecy."

"Well, if they are," Harry caught Voldemort's eye. "They can stop you from taking it, but what about me? If they don't see you, they'll have no idea I came here with you. I could get it."

"If you're willing." Nodded the Dark Lord. "The prophecy is a small orb about as big as a sphere. However, I warn you; Dumbledore might try and exhibit some kind of surprise attack on you, if it indeed is a trap. If things get too out of hand, I'll help you. They may harm you now that you're here with me."

Harry nodded. "I'll be careful. How will I know which orb it is?"

"It will react immediately the moment you step into the room." Explained Voldemort. "You and I are the only ones who can take it. They may be two steps ahead of us and plan for you to take it so they can then get it from you."

"They won't get it." Growled Harry. "I won't let them."

"Good boy." Said Voldemort fondly, and he nodded at Harry as he took a quick step forward. "Be careful."

Harry walked through the door, noting the immediate change in atmosphere. There was no more wind, and he could no longer hear the whispers from those behind the veil. His footsteps were loud and clanky upon the crystalline glass floor, and for a moment, he looked back at Voldemort, who motioned for him to continue, so he did. He reached the shelves full of orbs and stopped. The reaction was almost immediate; A small orb sitting upon it's own smaller shelf lit brightly, glowing upon his face like moonlight. It seemed to radiate heat that he realized felt like his own body heat, like the warmth inside his soul. Wasting no time, he reached out, his fingertips grazing the ball which he expected to be cold, but was warm, almost hot. He swallowed, and slowly lifted it from the shelf, clutching it his palm. It was so small, so radiant. He looked back again at the Dark Lord who gave an approving nod, and he smiled, about to take it over to him, when a voice called out behind him, "Harry, I should have known you'd be here."

He turned, and there was Dumbledore, his wand raised and Harry gasped in fright, just as Voldemort bellowed "Harry, run!"

Obeying, Harry dived behind the shelves, as bright light filled the room, grunts and single forks of color from both directions; Dumbledore and Voldemort were dueling. Clutching the prophecy safely in his hand, Harry panted, straining to keep watch over who was winning. There was a loud burst that sounded like a car backfiring, and the spells broke, Harry glimpsing Dumbledore fall to his knees.

"You do not seek to use dark magic, Dumbledore?" Inquired Voldemort, sneering. "How pathetic."

"No it is you who is pathetic, Tom." Replied Dumbledore, getting to his feet. "You think I have come alone?"

Harry emerged from his hiding spot and came to the Dark Lord's side and gasped. Half of the Order – his heart jumped at seeing Sirius among them – was there as well, all looking defiant, yet scared, hesitant, it seemed, and uncomfortable. Dumbledore seemed to be the only brave one. Upon seeing Harry, he took a step forward.

"It seems I was right, and Lord Voldemort has tricked you into getting the prophecy." Said the old man sadly, and he looked past Harry's head into Voldemort's face and sighed. "Haven't you, Tom?"

Harry turned and looked at Voldemort, whose eyes were narrowed, but his mouth was curled into a sneer. "Still as idiotic as ever, Dumbledore. You seem not to know the difference between trickery and allegiance. You see, Harry has openly joined me."

"You lie!" Barked Sirius, and Harry almost felt ashamed underneath his intense gaze. "Harry, you must get away from him!"

Anger licked his insides. "No!" He growled, and Sirius's face fell, shocked. "I won't! He cares about me, more than I can say for all of you!"

"Yes, Harry." Purred Voldemort, and he sneered at the group of people before them. "Harry knows now how all of you have betrayed him, forced him into a destiny he does not want to take. You all force him to be your savior." He sounded disgusted, and his voice was suddenly colder when he spoke next. "You use him for your own benefits. Especially you, Dumbledore. What not does it matter if he dies, as long as you, and all of you sniveling cowards behind you, continue to live? And you, Black," Red eyes turned to Sirius. "You see your friend inside of your godson, use him just so you can recollect memories of your little expeditions from your own childhood."

"I love Harry!" Snarled Sirius.

"Oh?" Inquired the Dark Lord, and he wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders, and Harry felt immediate content underneath his touch. "Is it Harry you see when you look at him or James Potter, Black?"

The action seemed to be Sirius's last straw.

"Get your filthy hands off my godson!" Black roared, and he attempted to charge at him, but Remus Lupin caught hold of the man's arms, holding him back.

"No, Sirius, don't pick a fight with him!" Snarled Lupin. "Do you realize he could kill you in two seconds?"

"The Werewolf is quite correct, Black, and I advise you to remember it." Said the Dark Lord silkily, his snake-like face showing every sign of deep smugness. "Now why don't you leave Harry and I and go back to hiding inside your parents' house?"

The younger man gave a roar of rage, and almost broke free of Lupin's hold, but Kingsley and Mad-Eye Moody seized him, calming the outraged Godfather down.

"This is most amusing." Voldemort's eyes glinted macheviously. "However, Harry and I have some business to attend to, and –"

"Harry!"

Harry blinked. Ron and Hermione emerged from behind the crowd, coming to a stop directly beside Dumbledore, looking both aghast and angry.

"Harry, when are you going to get it into your head?" Cried Hermione, tears welling up inside her eyes in desperation. "Don't you see what's going on..?"

"He's using you!" Ron jabbed a finger in Voldemort's direction. "He's tricking you, and you're falling for it!"

"You're wrong!" Growled Harry. "He cares for me!"

"_Cares_? Harry, this guy wants to _kill _you!"

"Stay out of things you don't understand, Weasley." Snarled Voldemort. "Did I not warn you of this, Harry? These people...they're trying to trick you. Again."

"Harry," Dumbledore spoke sharply, and Harry grasped his head in his hands; It was beginning to hurt, his mind was racing, he did not know who to believe... "He's tricking you, like he's always tricked you. He cares not about you. All he wants is that prophecy to kill you."

"No," Said Harry in a grunt, his head shaking. "You lie..."

"Stop filling his mind with lies, Dumbledore!" Voldemort screeched, drawing Harry closer to him, and Harry felt cold against his body, as if his senses were lying to him. "You've manipulated him enough as it is, planned for him to die! Is that truly love, Dumbledore?"

"I do not want you to die, Harry." Said Dumbledore, speaking gently to Harry, and again Harry's head thudded with confused and mingled thoughts, and he could not think. "I want you to live. He does not seek to stop from killing you. He wants you to die as his puppet, his object that he can get rid of on his own terms. You're letting him possess you, Harry. Do you think your parents would approve of this?"

Harry's eyes widened. His parents.. Lily and James... they loved him. How would they react, seeing him standing here with the Dark Lord, their murderer? He thought again of the whispers beyond the veil, and imagined, for a fleeting moment, he could hear their disappointment echoing in his ears, the warning of trickery and distrust, plain like the scar upon his forehead. "My... parents.."

Voldemort let go of him.

"No, Harry," Said Voldemort roughly. "Don't listen to him."

"No, Harry, do not listen to _him_." Dumbledore spoke calmly. "He lies. He's lying to you right now."

"Harry.." Sirius's eyes were full of unshed tears. "You have been the only thing that has kept me going. You are the only good thing in my life. Don't take that away from me. Please. I can't lose you, too."

Perhaps it was seeing his Godfather with such pleading eyes, or his own emotions that finally pulled him out, but whatever it was, he had come out of it; He felt as if he hadn't known himself, and was finally back, and he bit his lip and nodded. "Sirius.."

He took a step forward to his Godfather, the prophecy still clutched in his hand, limply at his side, and was pulled back almost immediately by a skeletal hand, grasping his forearm dangerously hard.

"Don't you walk away." Snarled Voldemort, red eyes dialating as though he were mad, "Don't you go back to them. You gave yourself to me, and I never let my possessions go."

Without realizing what he was doing, Harry jerked his arm free of the Dark Lord's, seething. "I am not your toy," he spat, "and I never made a choice."

This seemed to anger the man further, for he reached out and grasped both of Harry's arms, shaking him roughly. "You handed yourself over to me, you idiotic boy! I own you now, and I shall decide whether you live or die! You were mine since before your birth! Fate has ensured it!" He growled and seized the prophecy from Harry's slackened grip, and Harry had no time to react as he was pushed roughly down onto the cold floor, yelping as his head collided with the bottom shelf and the small orbs fell around him. "I've got what I want. You'll come crawling back again, Harry. Or I'll take you back."

Dumbledore made a violent move forward, but Voldemort was too quick; He Disapparated before Dumbledore had even raised his wand again, and Harry stared in stunned disbelief as he forced himself into a sitting position. "I helped him. I helped him, I.."

"Harry." Sirius ran and kneeled down beside him, embracing him. "It's not your fault. He tricked you."

"Why? Why did I let him? How could I be so stupid?" Tears fell rapidly down his face, and before he could control it, a pained sob escaped him, and he buried his face inside Sirius's chest, as his godfather comforted him, a burden of guilt and resentment at himself that he felt he would never be able to erase.

———–——

Oho. Harry's finally woken up. But was it all a lie, or really the truth? Was Voldemort really tricking Harry? You'll see. ;)


	24. Finding Myself

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everyone! I loved them! Here's the answers to your question: Who is telling the truth, Dumbledore or Voldemort? Who should Harry believe? **

**Someone suggested that both are manipulating Harry. Could that be the case? ;) Maybe. Maybe not. You'll know by the end (just four more chapters to go!) whether you were right or wrong. Have fun. XD **

**WARNING: HBP SPOILERS. (Spoilers for the Horcruxes and possible spoilers for DH. Those who read it, anyway; You'll know what I mean.)**

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"**And I thought that I found myself today, and I thought that I had control. All the change in my life just fell away. For a moment, I didn't need you."** – **Finding Myself, Smile Empty Soul**

**Chapter 24: Finding Myself**

It had been weeks since the fiasco at the Ministry.

Harry had returned to school moments after Voldemort had disappeared, betrayed and shock-still. He had been tricked into giving his worst enemy the greatest knowledge – the knowledge of how to destroy _him_. Once again, he had played into his enemy's hands, guided deceitfully and misguided truth. But it was not only Voldemort that had brought upon the situation: It was the anger inside of him. It was his own anger, own frustration, own unhappiness, that had done him in. Snape had been right;_ Control your anger, or let it control you... _

And he had let it control him. He had let it be used as a weapon against him. Just like his greatest strength had been used against him – love. The Dark Lord had used this to his best ability, turning Harry's strongest point into his greatest weakness. Love, lust – it was his destruction in the end. The power that had once saved him from murder would now be the stepping-stones to the end of his life. How could he have been so stupid...?

Together with the guilty conscience and the anger at his own stupidity, Harry had yet another burden to face – the realization of what he had done with the Dark Lord.

It wasn't even the fact that he had been tricked that was bothering him so much; It was the knowledge that he and the Dark Lord had committed sin, the deepest form of touch, the farthest point of feeling, and he had allowed himself to continue it. Of course, he knew he had been taken advantage of, but he also had sex consentually; What was more than it being his worst enemy, it was a man. A man who just happened to be his worst enemy. Those feelings for Cho, those little looks they had given each other from the start of term, that love he thought was flaring – where had it gone?

Had it been just a teenage crush, the first step in hormones blooming? He remembered their kiss – yes, it had been good... but... there was something more, _deeper_, in the kisses he and Voldemort had shared, and it seemed much more real to him, although at the time he had thought that the kiss between him and Cho was real too; The fact remained that he hadn't felt as alive as he had when he kissed Voldemort, when their lips met, skin touched, bodies collided, flesh on flesh...

"Potter!"

Harry snapped his head up, forgetting for a moment where he was – Potions. The familiar smell of fumes from potions around him filled his nostrils, and he blinked, realizing Snape was standing over him and half of the class had stopped mid-work, staring at him. He coughed. "Sorry, sir. I just..."

"Outside." Said Snape silkily, and Draco Malfoy gave a shout of laughter. "Now."

Harry sighed and stood, ignoring the snorts of laughter the Slytherins were giving, and Snape looked back and smirked at them even as he and Harry exited the classroom. Once outside and out of earshot of students, Snape sighed, and turned to face Harry. "Harry, are you all right?"

It still sounded weird to hear Snape calling him by his first name, and even more peculiar to hear the man speak to him with a gentle voice, not cold or jeering, but pleasant. With a lump in his throat, he whispered, "Yes, sir. I just... I was thinking too much. I keep worrying... when he's going to come back and kill me for good."

Snape nodded. "Although we confiscated the diary, there's still the chance he can even overpower it's defenses, as well as the castle's protection. I understand, Harry." He glanced back inside the classroom for a second before shaking his head. "They're starting to talk again. Listen, I called you out here to tell you that the Headmaster wishes to see you. Immediately." His black eyes looked almost worried. "He did mention it has something to do with the Dark Lord."

Harry paled. "Okay... thanks, sir."

Snape gave a curt nod. "I'll tell Granger and Weasley to get your things for you at the end of class. Don't worry about anything, I'll give you make-up."

Smiling, Harry nodded and hurried down the hallway, and Snape returned to the classroom, where even from his distance, Harry could hear Snape yell "Quiet!" and had to laugh. The man was starting to grow on him.

He sped through the halls and quickly told the Gargoyle the password before being allowed in, and knocked on Dumbledore's office door, where there was an immediate response. "Come in."

Harry entered, and Dumbledore stood. "Ah, Harry. Severus told you."

"Yes," said Harry, somewhat nervously. "Sir, is Voldemort...?"

"Everything's all right, Harry," Reassured the older man, eyes twinkling. "There have been no attacks, or any inclination that Voldemort plans to murder you anytime soon. Although, I advise we still be on the lookout."

Harry nodded, and took the seat to which Dumbledore was indicating. "So what do you want to tell me, sir?"

Dumbledore sighed, and took the seat behind his own desk, temple in his hands. "I've figured that now is the right time to tell you, Harry, especially since Voldemort now has the prophecy. You see, the prophecy alone does not decide whether you live or die."

Harry swallowed. "So... so there's something... more?"

"Yes," He sighed. "Although this is much more complicated than a simple document. You see, I am now convinced that the theory I have had for many years is quite possibly correct."

"What theory?" Asked Harry, puzzled.

"The theory that Lord Voldemort has split his soul to make him invincible, incapable of dying. This theory would help support the fact that he did not die when the curse backfired, and why he was able to possess young Ms. Weasley with the diary."

"You mean part of his soul was inside the diary?" Harry gaped. "The Riddle I destroyed?"

"Correct." Said Dumbledore. "These bits of soul, or mirror-images, are known as Horcruxes, objects that are instilled with the bearer of a person's soul, however times the person wishes to split it. It is my belief that Lord Voldemort has done just this, to ensure immortal life."

"He could have unlimited objects loaded with his own soul?" Asked Harry, astonished.

"Yes, however, it is not advisable to do such a thing, Harry. Horcruxes can only be made by the supreme act of evil – by committing murder. And here's our problem, Harry; I've been holding off on telling you, because I've been uncertain whether or not my theory was true, but it seems I am quite correct – our problem is that until these Horcruxes are destroyed, Lord Voldemort cannot and never will die."

"He can never be killed...?" Harry's heart was racing. "But the prophecy..."

"Harry, he can be killed. The prophecy is quite correct. However, these objects must be tracked down and destroyed before Voldemort can be successfully killed."

"But since you said that Horcruxes can only be made by killing people, how are we supposed to do that?" Harry's voice was unnaturally high-pitched. "We have no idea how many he made, he's killed tons of people! And how are we supposed to figure out what objects he put his soul into — ?!"

"Harry, please calm down." Said Dumbledore gently. "I know of a few possible objects, know where they are hidden, and know exactly how many he's made."

"Do you?" Harry blinked, impressed. "How did you figure it out?"

"Some time after you had run off with Voldemort, I realized that if I were to save you, I had to see whether or not my theory were true or not. So, since I knew Voldemort and yourself were occupied inside that cabin, I took it upon myself to visit the Gaunt house, the house upon the hill in the Graveyard you were taken to last year. It seems he had hidden a ring there, this ring to be exact," He raised his right hand, where dangling from one of his wrinkled fingers was a golden ring, with a small, cracked black stone down the middle which Harry had never seen Dumbledore wear. "And he had turned it into his first Horcrux. I destroyed it with the help of Severus, and eliminated it. You have also destroyed one."

"The diary..?" Questioned Harry.

"Yes, quite correct. The diary itself was a Horcrux."

"Why would he turn that into one?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "It's not that special, and he had enough power to smuggle it into the school and now to get inside of it by using it. Doesn't he know I ...?"

He stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening in realization. Of course. Voldemort knew he had destroyed that Horcrux. Was this perhaps why he was so worrisome over it's well-being? Had he again made it into a Horcrux?

"I'm glad you've divulged the problem in it's full context." Said Dumbledore. "However, I do not think the Diary has been again turned into one of Voldemort's Horcruxes. For one, he has no more soul left. And while he believes he alone knows about them, he would not seek to make any more. The loss of the Diary Horcrux would not appoint to him because he believes he's still invincible."

"How many... how many has he made, sir..?" Gulped Harry, not entirely sure he wanted to know.

"Six." Said Dumbledore, "Plus the seventh inside his soul. Without that, he would not be alive. You see, he thought seven the most powerful magical number, the most powerful number to ensure immortality. Two have been destroyed, leaving five, which I believe I know the answer to what they are." He paused. "First, I believe Lord Voldemort sought to seek objects from all four founders of Hogwarts, something from each of them, as this school was the first place he was severely close to, the place he could call home. Much like you." He inclined his head at Harry, and Harry's mouth went dry. "I, however, think otherwise. I believe he was unsuccessful in getting all four founders' objects. I know for a fact he got something of Slytherin and Hufflepuff, but I also know for a fact he did not get something of Gryffindor's."

"How?" Asked Harry.

"The sword of Gryffindor is the only known relic of the said founder," Explained Dumbledore. "And this sword has been kept under surveillance at all times, and has never been touched by Lord Voldemort. So that eliminates one of the four houses possibilities, leaving us room to guess on what that one might be."

"So you know he got something of Slytherin's and Hufflepuff's," said Harry, "But what of Ravenclaw?"

"I assume he might have got something from Ravenclaw." Answered Dumbledore. "However, I am not certain. Assuming I'm correct on the seven-part theory, after all; I've been known to be flawed, as all wise men are. That is partly why I've been keeping quiet, trying to make sure I am indeed right. At this point, I am convinced I am." He smiled slightly. "So, we've got the part of soul inside Voldemort, something of Slytherin's and of Hufflepuff's and possibly Ravenclaw, the diary, the ring, and then, I confess, although you might be astounded, Voldemort's snake, Nagini."

Harry back-tracked. "Nagini?!"

"Yes, I believe so." Nodded Dumbledore.

Harry was shocked. "Sir... humans... animals... can be.. _Horcruxes_..?"

"Yes, although it is unadvisable to make them into one, as they are something that can act and think for itself. Although, I must admit, Tom really has taken a fondness for Nagini. It seems objects that Voldemort was close to became the objects that he made into his Horcruxes. Things of true importance."

"And Nagini represented the belief that he was the only true known Parselmouth." Nodded Harry.

"And, also this, Harry – Voldemort planned his Horcruxes for extremely significant deaths. Deaths of true importance, eliminating his dangers and threats. Think: Who is the most important person he has tried to get rid of since his re-birth?"

Harry felt as though something were closing in upon him. "My...death?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, Harry. He planned to make his final Horcrux with your death. However, that plan backfired when the curse he set upon you reflected back at him, destroying him. But since he had already created Horcruxes before attempting to kill you, it explains why he did not die when the curse should have killed him. He was bound to the earth deeper than anyone, and I am sure you recollect this from last year, Harry, when he said _'I, who have gone along farther than anyone on the path to immortality'_?"

Harry's eyes widened. "He meant Horcruxes..?"

"Yes. Of course, his Death Eaters had no idea what he was talking about, but with those words you relayed to me, I realized what he must have meant. I was convinced then I was right. But of course, I was not entirely sure. Now that I am, we can begin to destroy them, and ensure Lord Voldemort is killed with no way to return."

So this was it... the path to his destiny. He now had all the information, all the nessities, he would ever have to defeat the Dark Lord. It seemed now there was no turning back. No more second-guessing and doubts. It was either do or die. He must be either murderer or victim. He must find the strength to do what he must, otherwise everyone would be doomed.

"I am sure the news cannot be a good thing to hear, Harry," said Dumbledore gently. "I know it must be hard to accept the fact that you must either die by his hand or kill him."

_You have no idea_, thought Harry. Then he spoke aloud, "Sir...? About the Horcruxes... you said you knew where they were hidden...?"

"Oh, yes," Nodded Dumbledore. "Yes, I believe so. Since we have each destroyed one, we have only five to worry about, including the bit of Voldemort's soul. So, really, that's four. Two are a mystery, but I know where one is hidden – Slytherin's Locket."

"Where?" Asked Harry breathlessly.

"In a cave near the Orphanage where Lord Voldemort grew up. He tortured children there, and hid the Horcrux beyond the sea. I will be going to destroy it tomorrow evening."

Before he knew what he was saying, Harry asked, "And can I go with you, help destroy it?"

Dumbledore looked at him carefully for a moment, and Harry thought that Dumbledore would say no, tell him it was too dangerous, but... "Yes. I believe you can. You've earned that right, as you are the prophecy's true meant opponent."

Harry nodded. "Thanks, sir."

Dumbledore glanced at the clock; It was already Dinner time. "You had better be going, Harry. I will inform you tomorrow when we shall go and destroy the Horcrux. In the meantime, stay safe, and for the record, I enjoy Acid Pops."

Harry laughed, and exited Dumbledore's office, and as soon as the door slammed behind him and he disappeared down the steps of the gargoyle, the grin slid off his face like cold custard.

Voldemort's words were again reappearing in his mind... _they lie to you, Harry_...

Here he was again, being told the actions he must take to fulfil his destiny. The destiny he did not want to follow! Again, here he was, being dangled by a string like a worthless puppet...

How funny that he allowed himself to display such weakness and vulnerability in front of the man who would take the upmost advantage of it, use it for his own gain, play Harry along like a puppet, dangling by a string, whose linen could be cut easily, so thin and fragile, that he would break the moment he fell to the ground, yet he did not stop the one who was plainly using him without an effort –

Was it because it was Voldemort who decided his destiny...?

Voldemort was the master of puppets, the exalted one who decided the fate of not only Harry, but those in his service and those without. The prophecy, incidentally, had nothing to do with it; The choices, like Dumbledore had told him, were what truly mattered, the choice to be dark or to follow the path in your heart. But one mistaken does not divulge your true path; Even if you walk a dark path, there was always the chance to turn back and cleanse yourself, to get rid of that darkness in your heart; Voldemort – _Tom_ – had the opportunity to turn back, just as he, Harry, had done...

After all, Voldemort was once pure, innocent, uncorrupted; He was not born evil, after all – no one was.

He had never really thought about the Dark Lord as being innocent, a curious, yet pure child, just wanting to explore the advantages of the world; Or perhaps he had never _allowed _himself to think of it. He understood now what Voldemort had meant, when he had asked him why the Dark Lord had allowed himself to show such weakness:_ "Because you are the only one who can see good inside something that represents all evil."_

He meant the existing innocence the elder wizard once had inside his core, a core that had turned progressively darker over time. A core that easily could have been cleaned, Harry realized with a jolt, had anyone done anything to help him. Voldemort – Tom – had as much chance to be saved as much as anyone else, yet no one took the risk to. Had Tom had anyone to love him in his youth, would he have been left to the mercy of the dark, a fragile soul converted so easily to the powers of darkness? Had he been taught right and wrong – good and evil – would he have become who he was today, a dark wizard bent upon conquest? Would he kill so mercilessly, destroy innocence and happiness without a second thought? No, he wouldn't.

He would not have turned into Lord Voldemort. Had he had someone to save him, he would not have turned into this diabolical monster. A monster Harry believed scared even Voldemort himself. He remembered the vulnerability in the Dark Lord's voice, the plea for Harry to stay with him, just so he had that innocence, that echo of his own shattered innocence, to hold on to — and Harry had ripped that away from him.

For the first time, Voldemort sought for someone to save him, as he knew he could not save himself. And Harry had turned his back on that. On him. Voldemort seemed to have at last comprehended the essence running through Harry's veins, love, and desired it himself. Perhaps Voldemort hadn't used Harry's advantages, but simply strived for them himself?

Could there be light in the darkness after all?

–———————————–

This one was fun to write, but now my arms hurt... XD Hope you liked!

- Tainted Visions


	25. The End Has Come

**A/N:** **Updated as fast as I could for all you lovely readers out there. :) And I made a mistake last chap — it's really three chapters left. (Including this one..). So sorry about that. I know some of you probably don't want this to end, and I'm sorry it has to... maybe – one day, and if I get a really good idea to add to it – I'll make a sequel. After all, there IS the possibility to continuation. The ending is going to be bittersweet – not entirely happy, yet not too sad. Also: There's going to be DEATH next chapter. Who? You'll have to see. Overall, there will be only**** two**** deaths in the story. I've got it all planned out, so I already know what I want in each chapter, where to leave off, and what to include. This chapter and the next are a two-part series, and the last chapter is sort of something like an epilogue, which will be written in first-person, from Harry's point of view. So, it's pretty obvious Harry survives. XD **

**This chapter also has spoilers for Half-blood Prince. Next chapter will contain MAJOR spoilers for Deathly Hallows. Just forewarning now. :) Other than that, hope you like this chap! **

**Song for this chapter does not really mean anything, other than the fact that now that Harry's learned of the Horcruxes, he's got no choice but to destroy them and kill Voldemort. The songs are always important for hints/spoilers to the story, so if you know these songs or have listened to them, the lyrics - especially the ones I put in the chapters - are usually important in some way, even if it doesn't make sense at the time. With only three chapters left, I'm giving out the last of hints, and I hope no one sees what's coming quite yet. (I don't want to bore anyone, especially if you're thinking that I'm just going to use some simple thing to end it. )**

—–—————————

"**Now obsession rules my mind. This commotion makes me blind. Searching out whoever runs, or has stolen away my life. But I've already said... Don't ever back down. Don't ever turn around. My end has come, so now I come for you!" - The End Has Come, Ben Moody**

**Chapter 25: The End Has Come**

Harry had a disturbed sleep that night. He tossed and turned, unable to doze off, his mind restless. His body was tired, it was his mind that prohibited him from going to sleep. That was one thing he hated – he thought too much. His conscience was filled with regret and guilt, yet at the same time full of confidence, anger, and of course fear; He was so appalled at his own actions, those destructive deeds he committed, killing Seamus and attacking Hermione, destroying the school although Dumbledore had been able to fix it easily, and most importantly...

He had slept with the enemy. And more than on one occasion. Everyone was convinced that he had been taken advantage of, forced into it, but of course he hadn't – admittedly, he had known well what he was doing, and didn't care, his need and head getting in the way – or perhaps it was his heart.

Had his heart been telling him it was right, that it was okay to do? If so, his heart was obviously mistaken; He did not want Voldemort. He didn't love him, he didn't even like him – he hated him, hated him so much he wanted to kill him. Or did he? He was still confused about that too. Did he truly want to kill the Dark Lord, knowing that they had shared secrets - and beds -, and that beneath that surface was a man truly wanting to be loved? Could he bring himself to kill Voldemort – no, Tom – knowing that somewhere, there was a small light that was beginning to flicker? Could he rob Tom of life, a life to which he never got to explore or understand? But of course, Tom – Voldemort – had been willing to take it away from him... why should he deny himself that payback, by killing Voldemort before he killed him?

He had told himself that he had wanted to for years, back when he had first found out the truth at eleven years old, and learned that he had murdered his parents, bent on murdering him. But now...

Now things were different. Now that he had seen the vulnerable side to Voldemort, he could not pretend he hadn't; He could not deny his eyes the things they had foreseen, the inner depth to the Dark Lord's soul. There was innocence and purity there, screaming to be released, and he knew he had to release it. Saving Voldemort was the answer – not killing him. He knew he could not bring himself to do it; Somehow he knew he never could. The answer why was always hidden from him, but not any longer. Now he knew why, and understood why; Love was indeed his greatest gift. Love was the only thing that could save not only him, but Tom as well. A parallel salvation.

It was evening, and he was sitting awake on his bed, staring out of the opaqued window, rain like mist clouding the surface. How gentle rain was – pure, innocent... like Tom. So endearing, enchanting, and yet so fragile – like Tom. Tom. Tom. _Tom_.

He shook his head to clear it, scowling. Why was it so hard for him to get the Dark Lord off of his mind? Usually, he'd have been thrilled not to think of the man, but now.. now he was thrilled to _be_ thinking about him. What was wrong with him? Why was Voldemort constantly on his mind, when he knew damn well that the other wasn't thinking about him?

Or maybe he was...

Curious, Harry closed his eyes, listening to the quietness, and concentrating on only one thing. He knew he'd able to do it. It just took the right motivation and concentration, like Dumbledore had told him. But did that mean... all of those visions, dreams – had they all been because he _willed_ them, _wanted _them? Had it not been Voldemort who sent them at all, but Harry's own desire to see them?

Almost automatically, it worked; He felt himself leave his own body, felt his presence become so much less than his human embodiment, like his soul had just left his body.

_He opened his eyes, and he was Voldemort, staring coldly down upon the many Death Eaters before him, who were all kneeled in respect – or fright it seemed to some – before their lord, and he stood and walked around them, none flinching or giving the slightest indication that he had just passed them. "My followers.." _

_He cleared his throat, face painted with a smug smirk. "I have succeeded at the task you could not; I have attained the prophecy." He lifted a small, glass orb in his hand, lit with a warm essence, nostrils flared, and several Death Eaters now flinched. And how they had the right... _

"_You pathetic imbeciles are idiotic; How you all convinced me you were loyal, and promised succession, but you did not come through – none of you. The whole Order of the Phoenix, as well as Dumbledore himself were present, and yet I still managed to attain it. It was such a simple task that a baby could do it. But of course, I did have some help.." His lip curled erotically. "Yes, I had a little angel help me. A dark little angel. He helped me with open hands... so I must thank him, for he is in this room right now, although he is invisible to your eyes. So thank you —." He murmured the last word – a name – so quietly that none of his followers heard, meant for it to only go upon one set of ears. "Harry." _

_He turned back to his Death Eaters, some risen to their feet and looking stupidly around the fire-lit moon. He almost smirked. What morons... "It seems some of you have decided to disobey my commands."_

_One of the risen Death Eaters – Yaxley – opened his mouth. "No, my Lord. Never question you, or disobey you. I simply – wanted to ask – who this little angel you speak of is..?"_

_He was too amused to do anything right away. He narrowed his eyes. The audacity of them... "I believe, Yaxley, that had I wanted you to know, I would have given you his name. The point I'm trying to get across is that none of you were there, none of you could get the job done – when you had promised you would.."_

_He spoke in a dangerously low voice, and the risen Death Eaters fell down immediately, all now white in the face and flinching. They knew the consequences. And they knew what was going to happen next. "I do not forgive my followers so easily. Nor do I intend to. This failure is the biggest one any of you idiots could make. So tell me – who had I appointed the head of the quest in the first place, mm?" _

_Bellatrix opened her mouth, then closed it, and re-opened it again. "My Lord... I believe it was Lucius..."_

_The man – Lucius – lifted his head from the floor, blonde hair falling behind his shoulders. "My Lord. Bellatrix is quite correct. However – you appointed her just as part of the task as I, therefore it was a joint one, and she holds as much blame as I."_

"_Quite correct, Lucius." Drawled Voldemort. "You do then realize that this cannot go unpunished...?"_

_He bowed. His voice shook, despite the exalted gesture. "Y-Yes My Lord.."_

"_Then stand." Snarled Voldemort. "You are one of my best, Lucius. It shames me to have to do this to such a faithful servant." _

_Legs shaking, the blonde rose, face white beneath his luminance mask. He was clearly scared for the lives of his wife and child. Narcissa and Draco. It didn't surprise him when Lucius's voice was filled with plea. "Please do not take this out on my wife and son. My death does not matter; I beg of you not to hurt them..."_

_He almost laughed. How he had been asked this long ago... when Snape had asked him to spare the Mudblood Lily's life. Harry's mother. Harry. His eyes widened. Harry was standing in front of him, small and teary-eyed. He looked no more than seven or eight years old, and he was clutching a bloodied knee. _

"_Mummy.. I need you.. Why did you have to go...?"_

_The small boy gave a sob, and clutched at his sides, tears running down his chin and into his ripped and dirtied shirt. "Why did you have to leave me alone...? Why couldn't I have died instead...? If only I coulda stopped it.. If only it had been me.. I wish I could speak back then and ask God to save you. He would do it. He would have taken me instead if I had begged for you and Daddy to live..." _

_And then he was gone, and he was staring at the shaking blonde again, whispering over and over again. "Please. Please.."_

"_They will not suffer, Lucius." Replied the Dark Lord, and he felt suddenly not himself, shocked at his own words. Why was he sparing the fool's family? "I can promise you that." He raised his wand, pointing it directly at Lucius's heart. The man gave a stiff gasp, preparing... _

_And then it was Harry again, small and fragile, shaking with tears running down his face. "Please...kill me.."_

_His hand shook. His wand began to descend. He could not kill Harry... not this innocent little boy.. No.. It was too cruel, too vile... too low. His wand fell to the floor, and he came out of his stupor in time to see Lucius's eyes open – apparently, he had shut them. _

"_Go." He whispered harshly. "Go Lucius. Go, all of you. Go NOW!"_

_He shouted the last word at the group of men on the floor, and immediately with quick rushes of "yes, My lord!" they fled, Lucius among them, and he was left alone again, head pounding. Why had that – vision – affect him so..? He knew it was not real, not really happening – it was a memory from the other's mind. The boy was clearly watching all that was happening. But why had he been allowed to explore the boy's most private memories..? Why was Harry sending him such memories..? _

"_Harry.." He whispered, lifting his hands to inspect them. They were as skeletal and white as ever. "What have you done to me? What kind of trick are you pulling on me? Are you trying to make me look so weak, soft? You think I will not kill you in the end? If you think that, you're obviously mistaken. You must be stupid to think that I'm just going to let my destiny go, because you need someone to listen to your little sob stories. You must die, for you rob me of all that I am. Do you hear me, you fucking brat? YOU MUST FUCKING DIE!"_

_He grabbed the trophy on the shelf nearest his chair and tossed it into the fire. For a moment, he heard the voice of a painful scream, and an evil laughter he knew to be his own. Pain ran up his arm, and he fingered it, blinking in astonishment. That scream had been Harry's. The Harry he had just seen moments before. And that laughter had been his own, the laughter he had given the night he had attempted to kill the boy, before he broke... the pain from when he broke... _

_Then it hit him.. _

_The boy had been in pain too, that night... he had felt his own soul rip. Could it be...? No... no possible way... he hadn't intended it... not the boy. It was simply a coincidence. He had to will it to happen, and he hadn't – _

_Unless he was not aware that he had. _

_With force, he pushed the boy out of his mind. He had to close off this connection... _

Harry was pushed out, and he opened his eyes, appalled. What the _hell_...?He sat up straighter, thinking. What ever that was, it seemed to have distressed Voldemort greatly. He, himself, felt quite weird. Why had those memories been allowed to show to his worst enemy? More importantly, why had he _allowed_ it...?One thing he knew for sure was that he couldn't any longer. He could not let Voldemort see any more, let him into his mind or into his heart.

The little games they had played were over. The Dark Lord was still bent upon killing him, and he couldn't let anything get in the way of his own destiny. Even if his destiny was Voldemort. They were, after all, ensured by fate...

_The Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal.. _

He hard marked Harry as his equal – worthy enough to be his enemy. They had the same power, same pasts, both had the ability to see into the other's mind, feel the other's presence through the soul's. But yet... they were different. Harry felt love, where Voldemort could not. Harry could forgive, whereas the Dark Lord always held a grudge. He couldn't kill, when Voldemort could...

Those were the main differences, differences he had to use to finish the man off for good. He could not focus on the similarities. They were his enemy.

His thoughts were interrupted when Ron entered the room, looking slightly nervous. "Harry, um.. Dumbledore wants you in his office... said you and he have to go do something that involves..."

"Oh, yeah!" Harry nodded and stood. "Thanks, Ron. I'll be right down."

Ron nodded, and bit his lip. "Look, Harry... I know this has to do with Voldemort, and I wanted to tell you – be careful. I'm worried that he'll get you under his wing again, and then I'll lose my best friend to him for good..."

Harry stared at Ron, shocked; He had never heard the other boy express such emotion and fear. It seemed almost forbidden, and for a moment he felt a twinge of annoyance before sadness overtook him. Ron was concerned for his life, his well-being.. "Ron.." He sighed. "I promise you – Voldemort will never take me over again. I promise you that you won't lose me. I'll do it. I'll kill him. It's the only choice I have." At Ron's puzzled look, he elaborated, "The prophecy said one of us must kill the other. I intend to be the one who kills him. There's no other choice."

Ron swallowed. "And you're okay with that..? I mean... killing someone else is a big deal, Harry..."

"I know." Admitted Harry. "And yeah, I'm scared. I think anyone would be. I don't want to have to kill him. But he'll never stop from trying to kill me. If he doesn't want to walk away, neither do I."

Ron nodded. "I understand."

There was silence for a moment between them before Harry sighed and headed towards the door that lead out into the common room. "I'll see you and Hermione later, I promise. I'll be back."

He walked away without even hearing Ron's reply. His eyes swam, yet he blinked the tears away. How he hated lying to his friends... and himself.

He sped through the common room and through the portrait hole, not stopping even through the halls, feeling that if he just ran, he could escape it all – the prophecy, Voldemort, murder, fear, fate, destiny –

But he could not. He knew that now. He had to come to a stop eventually, and he did now in front of the gargoyle that lead into Dumbledore's office. His face was wet now. He barely could form the will to speak, and the password came out in a short rasp of breath, voice choking on an unbidden sob that threatened to overwhelm him. He went up the steps slowly, feeling now as if a weight were lifting him down, his life with it – he must be the one to die. He knew that now. He could never kill. Never. Not even Lord Voldemort.

His hands shook as he knocked on Dumbledore's door, and the man opened it, to which Harry felt extremely relieved for – had the cheerful voice called "come in", he felt he would crumble to the floor with sobs. The man's eyes immediately contracted together. "Harry, are you all right?" He opened the door wider, allowing Harry admittance, and Harry quickly walked inside, falling beside the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk. The elder rushed over to him, his hands on Harry's shoulders. "Harry..?"

Choking on tears, he looked up into Dumbledore's face which was blurry. "I..." He swallowed a lump in his throat, and it felt as if it had exploded when it hit his stomach. "I'm ready. Ready to do this... and ready to face my destiny.."

Dumbledore's eyes lost their twinkle. "Harry..."

"It's been going on too long," Sniffled Harry. "I can't deny it anymore. If I'm going to die..." He took a breath. "I'm going to try and take Voldemort with me. I think I understand now why you put off telling me the prophecy – because you didn't know if I could come to terms with my destiny."

Dumbledore said nothing for a moment, then. "I'm sorry, Harry..."

Harry wiped tears on his sleeve and stood shakily. "So what is this Horcrux, Professor?"

Dumbledore rose as well. "Slytherin's Locket. If you're ready... we shall go. I warn you, however – there is danger ahead."

"Then I'm ready to face it." Said Harry, in a voice that seemed cold to his ears. "I'm more ready than I could ever be."

Dumbledore nodded. "I will be assisting you in Apparation since you haven't yet attempted or had your licence. The first time might be a little, ah – unpleasant to you.."

Harry resisted from mentioning that he had already Apparated with Voldemort, for this seemed kind of unnecessary, so instead he nodded and followed Dumbledore, who was already out of the door.

They walked down the hallways, which were remarkably empty; Everyone appeared to be in bed. It was late, after all. And his eyes were tired and heavy, but he did not let that stop him. Nothing could.

They reached the entrance, and Dumbledore pulled open the large castle doors, and Harry followed him, his face meeting cool air and darkness. The day's heat had worn off due to the rain which had stopped. They stopped in the middle of the courtyard, and Harry looked up at Dumbledore.

"Grip my left arm, please," Said Dumbledore. "And tightly."

Harry obeyed, careful not to squeeze the older man too hard, and prepared himself for the sensation that he knew would come. His eyes were dried now, and with a sigh, he spun as Dumbledore Apparated, and he again felt as if he was in a long compressed tube, striving for air, and he could hear that gentle voice again whispering that it would be all right, then he could breathe, and he was looking up at Dumbledore.

"You did pretty good for side-along Apparation, Harry. Very impressive!" The older man smiled proudly, then hoisted Harry to his feet. "You'd think you had done it before!"

Harry choked, and quickly turned it into a laugh before Dumbledore could notice. "Yeah. Although I don't think I like it very much... I think I'd prefer brooms."

Smiling, Dumbledore turned. "Well, Harry, if you aren't too woozy from the fall, we're here."

Harry looked around, and gasped. They were standing on a rock that was like a cliff, and there was sea water and the smell of salt all around him. He took a intake of it, loving the aura it created inside of him. His insides grumbled with hunger.

"Lovely smell, salt is." Chimed Dumbledore.

"So the Horcrux is here?" Asked Harry. "Why would he hide it here? It's so beautiful, so bliss for something so..."

"Evil? Well, perhaps, Harry, but Tom was quite close to this place. Close quite literally. This was the place he could divulge the evil within."

Harry's insides squirmed unpleasantly, and unwilling, and he blinked.

"The Horcrux –." Dumbledore spoke quietly, "lies a little beyond here. Follow me, Harry."

He proceeded to the right and Harry sped to keep up with him, almost walking into the older man when he suddenly stopped. "Ah, here we are."

Harry looked from behind Dumbledore and saw that they had reached a dead-end. All there was around them was chipped brick, a steady wall of rock. "Sir... there's nothing here."

"Not to your eyes, but to mine, Harry; Magically," he explained at Harry's inquiring look. "I've known Lord Voldemort a long time, long enough to know the physical and emotional limits he would shake someone, and of course, his likes and preferences. This, of course, is one of them. He took a lot of magical defenses against this place, although he doubted anyone would ever find it. Still, he was careful."

Dumbledore ran a wrinkled hand over the rock, as if feeling for something. He raised his right hand and repeated this, feeling along the wall, moving back and forth and humming. Harry watched him with a raised eyebrow. Dumbledore could do the weirdest things sometimes, although he knew this had nothing to do with his oddness; Still, it was weird and yet amusing to see his delighted professor doing such weird things. Finally, Dumbledore seemed to find what he was looking for, for he gave a shout of ecstacy that Harry couldn't quite understand.

Dumbledore reached inside his pocket, and Harry drew closer to get a better look. "Sir... what exactly are you. – ?"

"There is a door here," Explained Dumbledore. "However, I think it requires payment."

"Payment?" Asked Harry nervously. "What kind of payment?"

"Blood," Said Dumbledore simply, pulling back the sleeve on his left forearm. Harry gasped.

"Sir, you can't! I'll do it, I don't want –"

But Dumbledore had already slashed at his hand, revealing droplets of blood to which he placed on the wall. "You're very considerate, Harry, but I'm afraid your health will come of more importance than mine. Ah, here we go!"

He stepped away, and Harry had a plain view of a hole in the wall opening, a crevice that was quite big, and Dumbledore headed through it, and Harry followed him, shaking his head. How Dumbledore knew things that no one else did was quite amazing.

The atmosphere suddenly changed, and Harry cradles his arms around his shoulders, shivering. It was so cold...

Dumbledore, however, seemed not affected at all by it, and again he stopped, at what appeared to be a large lake.

"Wow.." Breathed Harry.

Dumbledore turned to him. "Exactly my thoughts. It seems the Horcrux was heavily guarded and enchanted with spells for protection. It must be hidden in this lake."

"At the end?" Questioned Harry.

"No, the middle," Said Dumbledore, "Look, Harry."

He pointed to the middle of the lake, where reflected from the high rocks around it, was a green complection, not quite matching the surrounding water.

"But how do we get it..?" Asked Harry. "It can't be so easy. Like... we can't just use a Summoning Charm and..."

"Excellent idea, Harry!" Dumbledore stopped suddenly. "We could try that. Why don't you attempt it?"

Harry blinked. Him? "Er. Okay.."

He raised his wand, swallowing again that lump in his throat. "Accio Horcrux!"

The reaction was immediate; Near the end of the lake, there was something like an explosion, and Harry stepped back in alarm. It was gone just as quickly. His heart pounding, Harry looked up at Dumbledore who appeared not to be startled. "Sir... what... what was that?"

"A obstacle, I believe, to stop us should we attempt to seize the Horcrux. This must mean there is another way to get it."

"But what?"

Dumbledore did not respond; Instead, he walked forward along the edge of the rock, pulling at thin air as if something were there. Again, Harry was shocked by how well Dumbledore seemed to know Voldemort's plans, and then there was the sound of something like a scrape, and Harry gasped as Dumbledore pulled up a long chain, ripples in the water that revealed a small boat, like a canoe, and he lunged forward to help the older man. "A boat!"

"Yes," Said Dumbledore, relinquishing the pulling as the boat hit the shoreline. "Again something I was expecting."

"It looks really small," Harry observed. "How are both of us going to fit into it..?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "It is not the person or persons weight that matters to Lord Voldemort – it is their magical talent."

"But.."

"In other words, if you're below the age of 17, and unqualified, he will see you as nothing. Again, his mistake, Harry," Said Dumbledore, inclining his head at the younger wizard in apology, "He underestimates you like he underestimates everyone." He lowered himself into the boat, which moved away from the cliff and back again. "You next, Harry."

Harry lowered himself into the boat as well, cramped against Dumbledore. It was extremely uncomfortable. "Ow.."

"So sorry, Harry." Said Dumbledore. "Hopefully, this boat moves pretty fast."

Dumbledore moved the chain and the boat started up, slow at first before accelerating at a constant velocity. It was then that Harry saw it; Marble white hands – much like Voldemort's – drifting above the surface of the water. He screamed. "Professor!"

"Yes, Harry?"

"There – there's – hands..._bodies_ in here!"

"Yes, Inferi have always been one of Voldemort's favorite – yet most fearful – things. Back when he was powerful, he had these. Oh, yes, Harry," Dumbledore smiled, "Lord Voldemort fears dead bodies. He fears them so much that he has bewitched them to do his bidding. In this case, protect his Horcrux."

Harry gulped and tried not to think about the dead bodies floating around them – they were near the middle now.

"Sir?" He tried. "Do you – do you think they'll try and stop us..?"

"When we attempt to get the Horcrux? Certainly not. When we get it, however, I'm sure they will not be so friendly."

They watched the water beneath them, Harry's skin crawling in fear, and then they reached the green-misted area, and bumped into something Harry could not see. "What's there?"

But Dumbledore did not need to answer; He lifted his wand, and then he saw the small island, not visible to the human eye without some kind of assistance from the wands. Dumbledore climbed out and Harry followed him, glancing back near the water nervously before joining the man's side. Standing before them on the small island was something like a basin, much like the Pensieve; Except this contained no swirling memories – instead, it contained a emerald liquid, much like a potion.

"Do you think the Horcrux is inside it, sir?"

"Oh, yes," Answered Dumbledore. He reached out a hand to touch it, but before he reached the tip, his hand seemed stopped by some invisible force. "Hmm. Barrier of some sort."

"There's no way to get it..?" Asked Harry.

"Oh there is. It's just not as simple as touching, Harry."

Dumbledore tried a few things, saying a few words Harry could not distinguish and attempted pointing his wand and murmuring spells; Nothing seemed to work. Harry watched nervously as he worked, and when the elder stopped, did Harry finally speak. "Sir... is it...?"

"My attempts to drain, vanish, transfigure, and mutate the potion seem to have no effect. I cannot physically touch it. Perhaps it's meant to be drunk."

"No!" Shouted Harry before he could stop himself. "Sir! You can't drink it! What if it hurts you, or disables you, or... or kills you..?"

Dumbledore sighed. "That is the only thing I can think of, Harry. I tried speaking in different languages, and –"

"Wait!" Harry's eyes went wide. "What about Parseltounge?"

Dumbledore whirled around to face him. "That just might work!"

Excitedly, Harry rushed forward, eyes focused upon the basin. "_Accio_.."

He was shocked when it worked; The basin lifted into his arms, and Harry turned to Dumbledore, appalled but pleased. "Sir! Sir, I got it!"

"Very good, Harry. Well done!" Dumbledore praised, and he used his wand to reach inside the emerald green potion and pull out a small locket, with a S printed on the front.

He handed it to Harry, who took it with shaking hands. He could swear he felt the beats of the heart beneath it...

"We'd better head out before those Inferi know we have this," Said Harry, placing the locket in his pocket.

"Yes," Announced Dumbledore, and they again crowded themselves into the boat, Harry ignoring the cramped feeling, focused more on the dead bodies beneath the water.

They were floating gracefully when it happened; A hand, the same marble hand from before, shot upwards and grasped Harry around the forearm, and Harry yelped in fear and shock as it began to pull him out of the boat.

"Harry!"

Dumbledore grabbed Harry's other arm, pulling him. The marble hand continued to pull, however, and soon Harry found his face dipped beneath the water, cold against his skin. He shivered as his face was lifted again, the hand still wrapped around him dangerously, Dumbledore still clinging to him with effort. Neither seemed willing to let go. Suddenly, light filled Harry's eyelids, and he opened them; The hand had let go, and he was sitting again inside the boat, wet and shivering.

"What – how did you?"

"Fire, Harry," Explained Dumbledore. "It is feared by Inferi."

"Thank you, sir." Said Harry gratefully.

"Not at all, Harry. We are here."

Harry looked up to see that he was right; They were back at the cliff, and Harry felt inside his pocket – the Horcrux was still there.

Both climbed out of the boat, Harry still shaking from his encounter with the Inferi. They walked until they reached the Archway again, and Dumbledore offered his blood, the door opening, and they were out, back onto the cliff of the cave from which they had first entered.

"Ready to Apparate again, Harry?" Asked Dumbledore.

Harry nodded, and grasped Dumbledore's arm. He was rather dizzy, and his stomach was turning. Immediately, he felt as if he was being compressed again, and again, it was gone.

He was coughing, taking in the smell of the grass of the Hogwart's courtyard, and Dumbledore was kneeled over him. "All right, Harry?"

"Y-Yes," Harry shivered. Dumbledore lifted him to his feet. "I feel... sick. And dizzy."

"Not to worry. Help's coming now." Said Dumbledore gently. "Ah, Severus."

Snape hurried towards them, eyes wide. "Albus, what is – is Harry all right?" He asked, as Harry vomited onto the grass. "Should I get Poppy..?"

"No, it's all right, Severus. He's shaken up a bit, but nothing that a good potion can't cure. There is something I'd like for you to do for me now, though." He passed the locket over to Snape, who stared at it hardly. "You know what it is, and you know what to do with it."

Snape nodded. "Right away, Headmaster."

He departed quickly, and Harry looked up at Dumbledore. "Sir..? Is he going to destroy it..?"

"Yes," Nodded Dumbledore. "This is it, Harry; Lord Voldemort is now a mortal man, capable of dying. He no longer has back-up sources to ensure immortal life."

"You think so, Old man?" Came a drawl voice from behind them.

Both Harry and Dumbledore turned. Harry gasped. Voldemort was standing there, face livid, and fists clenched. His eyes went from both Harry to Dumbledore, and Dumbledore dragged Harry behind him, out of harm's way.

"I know so, Tom." Said Dumbledore calmly. "You see, I discovered your secret awhile back. All of your Horcruxes have been destroyed."

"Ahh.." His eyes scanned behind Dumbledore to Harry, and back again. "Or so you think."

Dumbledore's eyes contracted, and Voldemort smiled. "Oh yes, Old man. There is one you missed. Oh, not missed – denied. You know as well as I that it was an accidental one. _He_ is an accidental Horcrux."

He motioned behind Dumbledore to Harry, and Harry felt himself robbed of all breath. Him..? That was not possible! A lie! Dumbledore turned to him, and Harry's fists clenched at his side. "You... is it... is it true..?"

A sigh; "Harry, I was going to tell you.."

"When?" Tears were forming in his eyes. "When, Dumbledore? Was this what you meant you said I must die!? WELL?!" He screamed into the other's face, spit flying. Dumbledore did not move, and he said nothing.

"Harry..."

"No!" Harry growled, infuriated, angry tears falling down his face. "You deceived me again! You lied to me! You withheld information from me!"

"You must understand..."

"No! YOU understand! Don't you understand what you're doing to me?!" He moved away from the older man, who seemed on the brink of tears himself. "I'm done. I'm done with it all!"

"See? What did I tell you, Harry?" Purred Voldemort, and Harry looked at him with tear-filled eyes. "This foolish old man strives for nothing more than to see you dead. To use you, too, it seems."

"Like you're any better!" Harry snarled. "You're the one that wants to kill me! I saw that vision – you still haven't given up on killing me!"

"No."

Harry blinked.

Voldemort sighed; "Harry... if you saw... then you saw what I saw; You sent me those memories, without realizing, and that did more to me than make me stop from killing Lucius." He looked Harry in the eye. "It made me realize that I cannot kill you. Ever. You do not hurt – or kill – the ones you love."

Harry swallowed. "And you...?"

Voldemort stepped towards him. "Yes.. I love you, Harry."

"Enough!"

Dumbledore whipped out his wand, but Voldemort was too quick; Using his mere hand, he tossed Dumbledore back, knocking the older man unconscious. "Now that the old fool's out of the way... why don't you come back to me like a good little boy?"

Harry saw him lift his wand from beneath his cloak slowly, and fled; A jet of Red light exploded over his head as he dived inside the doors to the castle, the curse blasting off the doors.

"Come out, come out, Harry," Came Voldemort's voice again, filled with amusement. "Don't run from your master. Or I might have to hurt you, and you wouldn't like that, would you? Come out, little Harry.."

Breathing heavily against the door, Harry's mind whirring in fear and helplessness.

Here it was again, the choice between what was right and what was easy. Should he walk to his death – to Voldemort – or fight it? Like his heart..?

———————

**Wow. Long chap. Hope you like! **

**- Tainted Visions.**


	26. Cold But I'm Still Here

**A/N: Okay. So this is the last chapter full of any story or information. Since next chapter is the epilogue, the story is basically ending here when it comes to seeing action and unraveling plot. This is my favorite chapter I think, and it's so worth it because it's so important. Possibly the biggest chapter in the whole story. **

**So... I want to thank everyone who's read it/reviewed, I am so grateful. I know I probably can't please everyone, but I'm hoping you all like the end result of the story. The song for this chapter is the most important, as this is the song that first inspired me to write this in the first place. So this is the only chapter where the lyrics are all going to be posted. Hope you like!**

**CAUTION: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR DEATHLY HALLOWS! **

—–—————————

"**Hello, I'm your martyr. Will you be my gangster? Can you feel my trigger hand, moving further down your back? When you hide, hide inside that body. But just remember that when I touch you, the more you shake – the more you give away. **

**(Cold) But I'm still here. (Blind) 'Cause I'm so blind. (Say never) We're far from comfortable this time. (Cold) Now we're so cold. (Mine) And you're not mine. (Say never) We're far from obvious this time. **

**Wait another minute here; Time will kill us after all. Can you feel it's second hand wrapped around your neck? Now fall into my eyes – and fall into my lies. But don't you forget, the more you turn away, the more I want you to stay – **

**(Cold) But I'm still here. (Blind) 'Cause I'm so blind. (Say never) We're far from comfortable this time. (Cold) Now we're so cold. (Mine) And you're not mine. (Say never) We're far from obvious this time.**

**You're so endearing, you're so beautiful. Well, I don't look like they do, and I don't love like they do, but I don't hate like they do. Am I ever on your mind? **

**(Cold) But I'm still here. (Blind) 'Cause I'm so blind. (Say never) We're far from comfortable this time. (Cold) Now we're so cold. (Mine) And you're not mine. (Say never) We're far from obvious this time.**

**(Cold) You broke me from the very first night. I'd love you till the day that I die. I'm far too comfortable this time. (Cold) I loved you from the very first night. You broke me from the very first night. I'm far too obvious this time..." — Cold (But I'm Still Here), Evans Blue**

**Chapter 26: Cold (But I'm Still Here)**

There was silence, too long of silence; The only sounds that could be heard were the low, steady chirping of the crickets, accompanied by Harry's strained breathing, his heart pounding rapidly. He still remained behind the doors, which were slightly ajar from the curse that had hit it, and Harry could hear his footsteps from the other side, slow and patient, and Voldemort's voice was the first thing that broke the prolonged silence.

"Harry, I'm waiting. Come out. I'm not going to hurt you.."

His voice was oddly mocking; It didn't seem at all genuine, like the voice he had heard when he had first Apparated – now it seemed colder, amused, and mocking; Why this scared him even more he had no idea. His senses were telling him that he should remain where he was, but his heart was telling him something else.

A heart that was easily broken.

_I'm a Horcrux.. I have to destroy it, even if it means my death... _He put a hand on his heart, listening to it's rapid beating, the thudding of the organ that kept him alive. He remembered the beating of the heart beneath the locket, and how it's hymn had calmed him when he had gone over the lake of Inferi. That had been Tom's heart, the heart he was missing now, trapped — much like his soul.

He edged a little around the door and peeped; Voldemort quickly caught this, and moved forward, and Harry hurriedly moved back around, preparing to run if need be; Although the school was empty, he knew the students and teachers wouldn't take it well if the most feared wizard in history pranced into it. Yet something was telling him to do it, to draw Voldemort inside. Something inside him was telling him to let Voldemort in, and he took a deep breath before he walked into the doorway, facing Voldemort, who was standing almost near it, not even five feet apart from him. He smirked when he saw that Harry had revealed himself.

"Good boy, Harry," Sneered the Dark Lord. "Now, why don't you come over here so you and I can talk...?" There was an erotic look in his eyes again, just like Harry had seen many times before now, and that was the edge he needed. He turned, and fled inside the castle, bursting through the doors as he did, and ran down the hall, heading for only one place, and he nearly breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Voldemort following him.

He ran until he reached Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, Voldemort in pursuit. He darted inside and stopped at the sink, the word coming out of his mouth as if recited. "_Open_."

It abided quickly, the sinks moving in and out, in a weave, and revealed the hole that lead into the Chamber. Without waiting for the other man, he dived in, knowing he would follow him.

He hit the floor with a thud and scrambled to his feet, just in time to see the Dark Lord land gracefully upon his feet to which Harry gaped at; He hadn't even fallen to the floor...

"No more running," Voldemort was advancing on him, and Harry stood there, unmoving. "I've played your little game, now you'll play mine." He reached forward and seized Harry by the front of his shirt. "You have allowed yourself to display emotions in front of me, memories, your most important secrets, all knowledge to which I can destroy you with easily," He pulled more forcefully on the boy's shirt, making Harry shake, "Why?"

Harry did not speak, and Voldemort growled; He wanted answers. Shaking him harder, the Dark Lord screamed into his face. "Answer me! Why have you let yourself become so weak?"

"Because I want to save you," Said Harry slowly. "Tom... I want to save you from the monster you've become."

Something glinted in the man's eyes – regret? – but it was gone as quickly as it had been imagined. "To _save me? _Why do you think – what makes you think I want to be saved? My purpose, my intent – my need – is to kill you and nothing more. But lately... lately I have found myself... unable..."

He released Harry's shirt and pushed him roughly away before turning his back on him. "What have you done to me, Harry? What have you awakened inside of me? Don't you realize..." He turned back, eyes narrowed, "That I was content with everything before you had to ruin it? Don't you realize that before all of this... I was satisfied with it, believed it, and now... now you've ruined that. I was content with who I am."

Harry again said nothing, and looked away. Voldemort sighed and lifted the boy's chin so that their eyes met. "When you changed into me that night... into my form... it wasn't because you're doomed to become me, or even that I was possessing you – because I never have. What you were seeing was how my own innocence was shattered, ripped from me, just like your own, yet you remain pure of heart. I, however, did not. Cannot. I strive for it, yet I know I can never have it."

"You can," Said Harry in a croak, his eyes shining with something like plea. "Tom... you can stop this. You can turn away, turn away from the destiny fate has given us. Destinies can be changed! You said that yourself! You told me that! Neither of us have to abide by the prophecy – it's just a document. There's the chance to walk away from it. Unless of course," Harry's eyes narrowed, "You don't want to. And if you don't, then go ahead and kill me. If you choose to follow this destiny, then I do too. My destiny is to die. So go ahead – fulfill it."

Voldemort was looking at him with hatred. "You know I can't do that.."

"Why not?" Harry gave a bitter laugh. "Why can't you? What's changed within you – if you are truly dedicated to being a monster – that has stopped you from killing me?"

"I asked that question just tonight," Said Voldemort quietly. "And I found the answer..."

Their bodies were touching, now, Voldemort's faces inches from his, and Harry did not shudder underneath his weight, their eyes never leaving the other, searching deep into the other's soul. Harry could see himself reflected in those red eyes, and he was sure the other could see his own reflection in his eyes. The question was did he himself as he was now – snake-like and corrupted – or as Tom, innocent and pure?

"The answer," Said Voldemort, "Is you. Everything about you has changed me. You have changed me, Harry Potter, I can't deny or pretend that you haven't. You're a thorn in my side, though, Harry – you're a constant reminder that I let myself be overtaken by darkness, you're the one who made me become the monster I am..." His eyes seemed gentler now, somehow, not as angry as they had been moments before. "Yet you are the only one who can save me from it. I want to be saved, and I want only you to save me."

And Voldemort kissed him, Harry returning it just as enthusiastically, the ache within his heart soothed; How he had longed for that kiss again. All too soon, however, they broke apart, staring into each other's eyes, listening to the other's heartbeats. There was a moment of silence before the sound of quick footsteps made both look up; Dumbledore, his wand aloft and risen to chest-height, was staring at the pair of them as though he were mad.

"You disgust me," He snarled venomously, "You allow him to control you again, Harry?"

"No," Said Harry calmly. "No, I'm not letting him, simply because he isn't controlling me."

Dumbledore shook his head angrily. "Your parents would be ashamed. You've walked into his arms willingly, knowing that he will kill you. Does the lives of your friends and everyone else mean nothing to you? Don't you realize that you have to kill him or be killed?"

"He won't kill me." Said Harry again in a calm, controlled voice. "Destinies can be changed, after all. People can be saved. You were right, Dumbledore – love is my greatest weapon."

"You want to save him?" Dumbledore asked incrediously. "Harry, he doesn't want to be saved! He likes who he is, the monster you and I have both come to know, so don't deny the truth! Voldemort will always be the same, and there's no soul alive who can change him!"

"Maybe you're right," Said Harry slowly, "But what if a soul was dead?"

He paled. "Harry, you..."

"I'm willing to die to save him," Said Harry, "After all, you were prepared to let me die. The prophecy, the Horcruxes – it was all hints that I had to. If that prophecy is true, then I've only got one thing to do –" He turned to Voldemort, who looked somewhat shocked. "It said 'neither can live while the other survives'; If one of us lives, the other doesn't. Not only just because we share souls, but because we both know neither of us can truly live happy unless the other is gone." He sighed. "I'm willing to give that up. So you can live."

Voldemort grasped Harry's face gently in his hands. "I cannot live without you, Harry."

"I know," Sighed Harry. "I can't either."

There was something like an explosion, and both looked up in time to see Dumbledore, face infuriated, and wand pointed at both of them. "If you've sworn allegiance to him, Harry, I cannot allow it; He must die, and if you're willing to go with him, then so be it. The loss of one life does not affect like the lives of many."

Voldemort growled at Dumbledore. "The Greater Good, again, Dumbledore? Where did that get you last time? It killed your sister, with you and Grindelwald and your dark ways; 'The loss of one life does not affect like the lives of many'? So Ariana's death was merely the stepping-stones to a greater world, her death means that little to you?"

Harry knew what was going to happen, and grabbed at Voldemort's sleeve, just as Dumbledore gave a roar of fury, and closed his eyes; but nothing came. Opening them, he saw that Voldemort had his arm around Harry's waist, and they were flying further away from the Chamber. Blinking, Harry looked up at the Dark Lord. "How..?"

"He was going to cast the killing curse," Explained Voldemort. "I could not let this end quite yet."

They were through the hole within seconds, and then they were again standing in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

"Come," Said Voldemort quickly, and he took Harry's hand. "He's coming."

He pulled Harry and Harry obeyed, running through the halls and out onto the grounds again. Harry took deep breaths, trying to catch it again. "How do you know about Dumbledore's sister...?"

"Rita Skeeter," He said simply. "That woman has a tendency to blab things. She told one of my Death Eaters."

Harry was about to reply when another explosion-like canon fired, and Voldemort hurriedly snatched Harry behind him, as Dumbledore followed them onto the grounds. He looked mad, madder than Harry had ever seen him.

"You dare speak of my sister?" His voice was remarkably sharp and filled with venom, his eyes reflecting it. "You dare, Tom? You were always so meddling. No one is born a monster – you, however, are the exception. I must end your reign of chaos, since Harry does not seem able to." He raised his wand again, shouting words Harry had never heard before, and he screamed.

There was sudden darkness around them, and when Harry opened his eyes again, a battle was taking place, Voldemort's Death Eaters fighting with what appeared to be the full Order and teachers. His left cheek felt wet, and he touched it, pulling it away again to see crimson red blood staining his fingers. Panicked, he looked around for Voldemort, but could not find him. "Tom!" He called out, "Tom, where –?"

"Harry, it's all right, I'm here!" He heard the voice, and then he saw him; Voldemort rushed over to him and lifted him to his feet. "What happened to you?"

"I don't know," Said Harry shakily. "He said something, then I was bleeding."

"He's using dark magic," Snarled Voldemort. "Darker magic than even I have done."

Harry swallowed, watching the battle. "And when did the Death Eaters get here?"

"I touched the mark before he attacked," Explained Voldemort. "I knew he had called the Order, because I could see them coming out behind Dumbledore. It seemed to have been planned, Harry."

"But how did he know..?"

"Perhaps he didn't. Perhaps he just suspected something and had the idiots around just in case." He answered slowly. He reached forward and tenderly touched Harry's cheek, and Harry winced. "We need to go. This cut's pretty bad. Maybe I can get you some solution and —"

"You're not going anywhere with my Godson!" Came the voice of Sirius Black, and both Voldemot and Harry turned. There was Sirius, and Remus Lupin, as well as Hermione, Ron and Ginny. Harry's heart hammered.

"How stubborn you can sometimes be, Black," Sneered Voldemort. "But in case you haven't noticed, your precious godson is in need of medical attention."

"Oh, you're medical attention, are you?!" Roared Sirius, and Lupin again had to seize the other man before he leapt forward. "_You're_ going to need medical attention when I'm finished with —!"

"Sirius, calm down!" Said Lupin sharply.

Voldemort smirked. "Keep your dog under control."

"Someone should keep YOU under control!" Snarled Lupin in retort.

"Oh, someone already does that," He said, and kissed at Harry's neck, and Harry almost winced from the sudden move. "Harry does that, actually."

"You sick –!" Roared Sirius again, but it was Hermione who spoke over him.

"You!" She shrieked, and Voldemort raises his eyebrows, "You manipulate and control Harry like he's some piece of property of yours! You're doing this just because you can, and you're getting a kick out of seeing him so vulnerable, aren't you?!" There were angry tears in her eyes, and she brushed at them furiously. "You're twisted, and sick, you foul –."

"As much as your insults amuse me, Granger," Snarled Voldemort, "I'm afraid your intelligence has decreased somewhat in the upcoming months. Of course, you're narrow-minded, but that's besides the point. I am doing no such thing to Harry; He's acting of his own free will, a will he never got to choose in front of all of you, because you're all so expectant of him to save you all. Why don't you save yourselves?"

"We're not expecting Harry to do anything!" Ron growled.

"That's a lie redder than your hair."

"What – ?!"

Ginny stepped forward. "You're possessing him like you possessed me. That diary is your key, isn't it? That's why you freaked out when he was going to destroy it. Without that, you have no control over Harry. You've obviously attained it again, otherwise he would not be standing right by you. He'd kill you first."

"Oh, would he?" Asked Voldemort, amused. "Well, then, let's ask him. Harry," He looked down at the boy, and feigned fear. "Are you going to kill me..?"

Harry looked away. He was hoping he'd never have to say this in front of them, but he couldn't deny the answer forever. Throat constricted, he simply shook his head. There were gasps.

"Harry, you can't mean that!" Said Lupin. "You can't just let yourself die at his hand..."

"I have no intention of killing him, you stupid Werewolf," Sneered Voldemort impatiently. "Destinies can be changed, and we've changed our's."

Sirius glowered. "Well, I'm not going to give up trying to get through to him!"

"Oh, by all means, keep trying," Said Voldemort sarcastically. "But you'll soon realize that I have no hold over him whatsoever."

Quite suddenly, a red jet of light exploded over the group's heads, missing Ginny by an inch; Turning their attention to the Death Eaters instigating an attack, Voldemort took the time to speak to Harry. "We've got to go. Your bleeding's getting worse."

Harry nodded. "All right, lets –"

A second jet of light – blue this time – flew over the pair's head, and now they turned to see Dumbledore again, who was seething. "You think your Death Eaters can possibly contain the Order and I? You've lost your touch then."

He raised his wand and shot a spell, to which Voldemort barely dodged. The Dark Lord seemed more concerned for Harry's well-being than his own; Taking Harry behind him protectively, the Dark Lord faced the elder wizard. "I will not let you harm Harry."

Dumbledore said nothing, the battle around them hitting a climax. Bodies were lying scattered amongst the school grounds, some hurt, some dead; It was hard to tell the difference.

Harry's head exploded with pain suddenly, and he fell to the ground. It was hurting so much, and he had no idea why.. Dumbledore hadn't raised his wand..

"Harry!"

He hadn't even heard Voldemort call his name, all he could hear was his own screams of anguish upon his eardrums. He felt as if his soul were being torn into two. Tears of pain were falling down his face, and his left arm felt as if something were piercing it, stabbing it.

Then he felt it, running through his body – poison. He opened his eyes, and looked down. A Basilisk fang was sticking out of his forearm. He gasped in pain, his vision becoming decreasingly darker. Pulling the fang out of his arm, he crawled along the grass, searching for Voldemort, hoping that he was all right, that he was there with him...

He struggled to get to his feet, swaying alarmingly, trying to open his eyes –

"Harry, look out!"

He opened them just in time to see Voldemort collide with him, knocking him sideways onto the ground again, and Dumbledore's voice ringing out onto the grounds. "_Tuez l'âme_!"

It was a spell he'd never heard of before, and with frightened eyes he looked around, seeing the Dark Lord lying on his side in the grass, shaking convulsively. Fear flooding him, Harry darted over to him, the pain in his arm forgotten. He had to be all right –

"Tom!" He reached out and turned the man over, panic flooding him. "No, Tom!"

Voldemort's eyes were open, but they were dank, dull, empty; Blood was seeping out of his mouth and down his chin, and his face was white in pale – paler than Harry had ever seen him. His arms were at his sides, limp, and his wand was lying a foot away from where Harry and he were. But Harry did not care. There was something severely wrong with him...

"Tom, can you hear me?" He asked in a small voice. "Tom!"

The man's eyes flickered, his breathing becoming hard in pants. "Harry.."

"Yes, yes, it's me!" Harry replied, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around Voldemort's cold body. "It's all right. You're going to be all right!"

Voldemort gave a strained cough, and blood again trickled from his mouth, dark and thick. It was staining Harry's hands, but he did not care. "You're going to be okay. I promise!"

"Harry.." Voldemort whispered, barely audible; It looked like it hurt him severely to speak. "This spell... kills... from... the...inside... out...it destroys... the soul itself.."

"What? No, it – you must have it confused with..."

"Listen... to me, Harry.." Said Voldemort. He swallowed, and gasped; Closing and re-opening his eyes, he continued in the same low whisper. "This... is really... dark magic.. I won't last... long."

"But – but the Horcrux inside of me – !"

"Has been...destroyed, Harry... the fang..."

Harry looked down at his arm where dark red blood had dried; No, it couldn't be... "No. No!"

"There is... nothing to be... done, Harry. My last source of life has been extinguished, and... now... I face death, knowing you have... made it better..."

Harry could not stop the tears from running down his face, and he dug his nails into the earth to stop himself before he sobbed. "You can't do this! You can't just leave – !"

The Dark Lord – with the last of his strength it seemed – shook his head. "Lives come and go, Harry. Mine is just another added to the list."

"You're not dead!" Shouted Harry. "YOU'RE NOT DYING!"

Voldemort smiled, and for the first time, Harry saw the trace of the handsome face of Tom Riddle, no red eyes staring back at him. "You save me, Harry... you saved me. You saved me from myself. When I look into the mirror, it's you I see, because you are my reflection. Don't cry, Harry," He moved his fingers slowly to graze Harry's blood-stained face, wiping away his tears. "Don't cry for me. No one else will."

"You can't leave me..." Harry choked.

"I'll never be truly gone, Harry – you have memories. Memories I advise you to throw away..." He gave a painful gasp. "Don't change who you are, Harry; Don't become bitter, and weak, like me; Remain pure forever. Love is my salvation, and your's. Love is the only hope we have..."

His hand dropped from Harry's face and Harry attempted to seize it, but it had already fallen. "Tom?"

There was no reply; Voldemort's eyes flickered and burned out – like a candle. The flame was extinguished. He was dead.

"Tom!" Harry shouted. "Tom, wake up!"

He knew it was no use; Even as he rang out the syllables, he knew there was no hope left. The spell had worked, and through a pain-filled sob did Harry stand, his wand clutched in his right hand as he turned to face Dumbledore, who was wearing a expression of apprehension. "You fucking..."

"Harry, it was for your own good; He would have killed you!" Dumbledore said quietly, and Harry threw back his head with a laugh.

"For my own good? The greater good? You seem to illusion yourself with the idea that this 'Greater Good' you speak of includes killing other people and planning their deaths! What's it matter if one life's lost, as long as many are saved? There is only one voice in a sea of people, only one voice someone beyond the skies can hear! And it's because of people like you that they're always the first to go, because you illusion yourself with these beliefs!" His hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold his wand properly. "I have no more to say to you."

He raised his wand, hatred swelling his inside like fire, as if a disease – poison – were running through his veins. Voldemort's poison; the venom within his soul. He imagined he could still feel the heart beat beneath his fingers, and narrowed his eyes. Dumbledore's eyes widened. "_Avada Kedavra_!"

The old man had no time to block it as the spell hit him; He crumpled to the ground, eyes blank and lifeless, and the diary fell out the pocket of his robes, and Harry fell to his knees in the grass, cradling it to his chest. Removing it, he stared at it, his eyes renewing tears. The book, previously having a hole singed into the middle, was now repaired, as if it had been mended by a force Harry could not see. But then he understood; The diary had mended because – his heart raced – Tom had been mended. The soul he had once placed into the diary had become whole and complete, although it no longer existed. _Tom_ no longer existed.

How he wished it could have been him instead. Tossing the diary aside, he banged his fists upon the hard earth, giving a wounded cry he knew Tom could never hear.

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**Okay, I'm actually CRYING here! I feel so bad... **

**But don't worry! There WILL, I repeat, WILL be a sequel! Things are not always what they appear to be, so don't judge Voldemort's death to be completely real quite yet:) (Although technically, he's dead..) Hope you liked. Next chapter is the epilogue, the last chapter. Thanks again everyone! **

**BTW, I got the name of the spell Dumbledore used from a French-English translation site; I wanted a french spell for 'kill the soul', which is something worse than a AK, so yeah.. **

**- Tainted Visions**

**(Is so going to miss this story)**


	27. Lost

**A/N: Okay, guys, last chapter! I really hope you like the finish. I know Tom – Voldemort's – death was sad in the long run, but it was very essential to happen. I re-read the entire story the other day and realized I had quite a bit of glitches (along with spelling and grammar mistakes) that really bothered me. It was mainly the thing about the Horcruxes – in chap 24, I had said that Dumbledore and Harry had five to destroy – in chapter 25, I had destroyed only one. Sorry, big mistake on my part. The problem is, I only get a limited time on the computer, and since it takes me a few hours to write chaps, I don't get to proofread it. Plus, I was using Wordpad. I'm now using Microsoft Word, so hopefully there will be less mistakes in the sequel and future fics. **

**Speaking of that, I'm writing one now called "Faith Like A Child", so if you like, check it out. It's not slash, like this one, but it does center around the Harry/Voldemort relationship, if just in a different way. Also, I'm still deciding on the title for the Sequel; I was thinking of "Fear The Dark" or "Shadows" or "Behind Enemy Lines", but not sure which one I should choose. Any suggestions would be appreciated! XD **

**The sequel should be put up by Christmas. So expect it around then. Also, since I'm going to revise this, expect 27 e-mails from this story... XD!! I might change a few things, but nothing TOO important. I might just change the Horcruxes thing a little bit so it doesn't just skip it. LOL.**

**Note: This chapter is also the ONLY chapter from Harry's point of view. **

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"**I'm lost in you everywhere I run. Everywhere I turn, I'm finding something new. Lost in you, something I can't fight; I cannot escape. I can spend my life lost in you!" Lost, Red**

**Chapter 27: Lost**

It's been two long years since the night you died. Sometimes it feels much longer than that. I feel like I've been in a haze since that night when you fell dead before my feet, like I've been dreaming a terrifying dream – or nightmare – that I am unable to awaken from. It's been two years, but my conscience makes it feel as if it's yesterday.

Because in my mind it still is.

Although the Ministry had convicted the scenario with the conclusion of you being responsible for killing Dumbledore and trying to kill me, leaving me free, although burdened, I can't find any real sense of happiness or closure. All those years ago when I had contented myself with the thought of your death and the closure that would come just as suddenly fell away. I never thought I'd feel this way. Because although you were my hatred, my enemy, the bane of my existence, you also were my existence, the only reason I lived, and I had known – know all along – that once you were gone, I'd have no other reason to live. So why I continue to let myself, I don't know. Maybe I know you would have wanted that.

I stumble through the mess that is white snow, shielding my face against a fury of cold tempests; It is a raging storm, pitching me as if trying to throw a boat off course, yet I continue forward, feigning strength so that when I reach you I can let it all fall away. Though of course, my strength – my bravery, courage – all left when you did. You were the only reason I had to divulge within those qualities in the first place; Now that you're gone, I don't have to fight anymore.

But it appears I still do.

Sirius notices it. My friends notice it. Even Ginny notices it. I think she sees it more than anyone else. I feel her emotions radiate off of her like the body heat I still linger from you, the warmth that no longer resides within my own soul, but I use to try and invoke any kind of emotion, any feeling, from my body that feels now like a soulless shell. I had been telling the truth when I said I couldn't live without you. My mind, my body all still works, and I give the right responses when prompted; But my soul – my heart – has vanquished. Once those red slits had paled, become dank, dull, and empty, my soul had become void of reality as well. Life had been exterminated from me, although I am still very techically alive. More alive than you are...

That is what saddens me so.

Why had you allowed yourself to take the hit for me? Why had you pushed me aside and taken the curse that would – and should – have killed me? Why, when all you had lived for was my destruction? Why had you let that fall away? Why had you let yourself love me?

The only satisfaction – and knowledge – I have gained from these couple of years was that I had succeeded in saving you; I had vanquished the Dark Lord. No, not you, Tom – _Voldemort_. I had killed the evil within you. And it's only these years later that I had realized the ultimate significance of the prophecy's words – I hadn't been destined to kill you; I had been destined to save you.

Either must die at the hand of the other... it had meant that I had to be the one to kill you. But kill the demon beneath the skin, not the real you, Tom. Perhaps Dumbledore knew it; Perhaps he knew that I had to love you enough to save you from yourself, and that was perhaps why he was so against it. He had been a manipulative old bastard, but he had been right about one thing, and that was that I _had _completed my destiny. Even if my destiny was to kill you.

And how I wish he could have been wrong.

My mind – feeling so comatose these days – flickers with something like life as I step in front of your grave; Feeling as though all wind had been swept out of me, I kneel down in front of the marble stone, engraved with the lettering of a mere name, a name you had despised, and I smile slightly as I trace the fingering of the single letters. My eyes water, and I swallow the lump in my throat to gain control of my emotions. My knees are laid upon the ground, the ground that is oh so concealing you from me. Your remains – bones now, surely – lay beneath my feet, unknowing, and the tears come faster than I can control them as I realize you'll never even know I came here. You'll never know just how much you impacted my life, how much you completed me although you were the burden on my shoulders, the hatred in my soul.

You had taken my parents from me, the two people who loved me most in the world, intent upon killing me. I can still remember – although scarcely – those red eyes boring into mine, your hand outstretched, the wand between your fingers, staring down at me with nothing but cold hatred without the single trace of mercy or remorse. You had been willing to take my life – it had been your sole intention for my whole existence – but I could never take your's. I still can hear the voice in my eardrums, those words spoken as if from the devil himself, the last words I ever should have heard, but nothing ever came. The curse had rebounded, killing you instead, and leaving me with a second chance when my life should have been ended right then...

Had I died, I wonder, would you still have been able to be saved? Had I not lived, had you succeeded, who would be the one to save you from yourself? Would you have been left at the mercy of the dark, a shadow on the ground, a whisper of dark in the wind, the fear all around us? Would you have been left to become an even greater monster, a essence of an evil, something of which you could never truly comprehend and understand?

You had been willing to kill me again as I was tied to that stone in the graveyard, the home of your rebirth, encased with your parents and grandparents dead remains and the strongest linger of evil and change reaching it's farthest peak. Your soul had already been ripped to shreds, barely visible beneath the embodiment of a tarnished heart. A black heart no one had been able to cleanse.

No one but me.

No one would have saved you, had it not been for my existence; No one could have seen the good beneath something that's essence spoke of nothing but evil. No one would have even tried. No one would have helped you, given you the chance you so wanted, though denied, the love you craved, but never had. No one but me. Had my life been spared – and my parent's taken – to reprieve another life? Had your's been the replacement of the lives that had been taken from me before?

Perhaps, but now I'll never know. I'll never know if the sacrifices I've made, the choices I've chosen, the lives I've lost were all worth it; I'll never know if I truly saved you, even though your last actions and words etch the truth in my mind. Perhaps I need a sign, a revelation, something to tell me that you can hear me and know that I'm asking this of you. But you'll never answer, because you simply cannot hear me. You're dead, gone – maybe I am too.

_Tom Riddle. _

My fingers curl into a fist as warm tears run down my cold, blistered skin. They fall into the white snow, pure and uncorrupted, unblemished from the essence that expressed sanguine life. Perhaps I'm more alive than I think. My emotions awaken for the first time in those long two years, some indication that my soul still exists, that I can still feel.

I glare at the tombstone, angry that you had let yourself take the hit, take the fall, take the shot, when it was me who should have. At that moment, you had the mirror image of the real you, the innocent and pure you, and yet at the same time your existence died with you. The only thing I can hope now is that death treated you fairly. I hope you are in no pain.

Taking deep breaths, the tears stop as I get back to my feet. I find I am unable to stay here any longer. The night is falling, and the cold air is only getting colder, blistering my skin until it is numb. I crave a warm fire, now, remembering all the times we sat before it, and I'll imagine myself with you, pretending I can feel your fingertips upon my skin, and your soft lips again drinking in my life – though it is never real. It will never be real again. Like everything, it had been taken from me. It had been so short, so temporary, perhaps it had been a dream after all, a figment of my own imagination. Maybe it was never real...

As I stumble back through the Forbidden Forest, glancing at the cabin you and I had occupied so many times and away again, I note that the winds have calmed, the ferocity of the storm decreased in volume; Looking up, my eyes widen as I glimpse a trace – a small speck – of a pair of red eyes amongst the trees. Unmoving, frozen in my place, I stare, scared to blink, afraid that if I do, the image will be gone –

But I need not blink; It has already disappeared. My heart gives a leap of misery, and I look away and try not to kid myself that with that reminder of you, because I know I didn't really see it, it wasn't real; Those red eyes – or what looked like red eyes – was all in my head and nothing more. Those real nights when you held me in your arms were over, those memories blocked beneath my shield of Occlumency. All our passion – or lust, attraction, whatever you want to call it – was just an imaginary figment, a mere dream I can satisfy myself with at night just to feel some type of sense that I exist, a betrayal of my deepest judgement, a judgement of a stone, like the tombstone bearing your name.

And that's all it ever was.

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**That's it. Hope you all liked:) I loved this chapter. - Tainted Visions**


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